On the Eve
by ladychewbacca
Summary: X-Men: First Class canon! Before he meets Charles, Erik is not alone . . .     The narrative style may change and there might be a possible Charles/OC! ENJOY!
1. Chapter 1

Set during in _X-Men: First Class_; **so only read this if you have seen the film! **I saw it, twice, over the weekend and I loved it that much it inspired me to write this!

I don't know where it'll end up, so, keep reading to find out! I have exams coming up as well so I don't know how often I can update, sorry :(

All characters, scenes and plots in this are (sadly) the property of Marvel and their relevant associates. Any original characters, scenes and plots are of my own creation and not taken from anyone else.

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>You don't know what it is like to experience true fear until you have lived through it. My name is Evelyn Gray, I am a mutant and this is the story of how my life changed forever.I was eighteen when my abilities fully discerned themselves, but I was eight when they first <em>revealed<em> themselves.

From the very little that I remember, I believe that my childhood was a happy; carefree one, the memories that sometimes plague me seem happy anyway - in the park playing with our dog, Pablo - I never found out what happened to him - buying sweets with my brother and he urging me to bribe the shopkeeper with a sweet, innocent look so as he gave me an extra liquorish whip or two - I lived in Berlin with my father and two, very much older brothers, Paul who was twenty four and Michael who was nineteen. After Michael was born our mother was told that she could have no more children, that her chance for having her much wanted daughter was over, so when she became pregnant with me, ten years later, I was considered to be somewhat of a miracle; my father called me his little _wunderkind_. But she had died in giving birth to me; I never knew her.

Michael was the one I was closest to, he was my best friend as well as my big brother. Paul had joined the army at eighteen, just before the war broke out, I was three, don't get me wrong I loved him also - he would always bring back amazing presents from wherever his regiment had been - but I felt closest to Michael who had practically raised me, seeing as our father had to work at the café. But he left for University to study Accounting in September 1943, after taking a year out to work for out father; I never saw him again.

What with Paul in the army and knowing nothing but war since I was three, I can't remember a time when there weren't soldiers roaming the streets, the odd tank swarmed with tired soldiers, merry men who were on leave or were having one last night out before leaving for the front again.

We were Jews; my father owned a café where he would sometimes serve free tea to the soldier's who had just returned from the front. I remembered that I used to help him, or just dally around the shop with skipping rope in hand ready to proudly show off my newly learnt skill to the brave soldiers who would always clap and cheer me when I had finished and curtsied. My father was very proud to be a German, which is why he gave the tea and cakes freely. He was a proud old soldier who had fought for his beloved country in the last war, but he had sustained an injury which had caused the Doctor to amputate his left leg from the knee down in later life; if he had both I'm sure he would not have hesitated to have signed up this time.

The soldiers seemed nice, until I was eight and they came to take us away.


	2. Chapter 2

I can't remember the details _specifically_, all I do remember is that I was playing in the street in front of my father's café with Pablo, our border collie, when two moss green army trucks rounded the corner, stopped, and at least twenty fully armed soldiers scuttled out. I thought nothing of it at the time so I continued playing, throwing the ball against the wall for Pablo to try and catch. It was not until I heard the first rounds of fire that the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

My father came hobbling out if his café, an angry and confused look on his face, looking as if he were about to shout down the soldiers who had caused the racket. He was a big man my father, he had easily managed to keep his large muscles and fit physique despite only having one fully functioning leg. But his face instantly paled ghostly white as he looked down the street, towards the soldiers.

The only person, in the whole world, I thought could _never_ be frightened looked across at me with terrified, almost animal like fear in his eyes. He beckoned me to him and dropping Pablo's ball I ran over. He scooped me up and held me tightly, crushing me to his chest, it hurt but it made me feel safer. I asked him what was going on.

"Nothing, flower; everything is going to be alright." He answered me quietly and as confidently as he could, but I unwillingly saw through his lie.

He wasn't looking at me, so I followed his gaze and found that three of the soldiers were walking towards us. I recognized the lead one, he was a regular at our café and we knew him well enough to call him friend. I eased a bit, but my father's grip on me tightened.

"Hans, what's going on?" my father asked him.

"I'm sorry Albert, but you have to come with us," the young soldier said, genuine grief in his familiar kind voice. One of the soldiers had gone into the café while the other was knelt beside Pablo stroking him and talking to him softly.

My father nodded slowly, then looked at my confused expression, smiled solemnly and positioned me more securely on his hip, "We all knew this day was coming," he sighed to himself, then he reluctantly looked back at Hans, "Take good care of her," he said in a strong, almost threatening, voice.

Hans hesitated, "You know I can't promise that, Albert," he said painfully.

"I know, but it will put my mind at rest knowing that you'll try everything in your power to, at least, keep her safe."

After a moment, Hans nodded sincerely, "Whenever you're ready, Albert, but I can't stall them for long." He walked away to allow my father to say his goodbye.

I looked at my father, confusion along with fear now etched onto my face. He smiled.

"Now, you need to be a good, brave girl for papa now, I don't want to hear a bad word said about you from Sergeant Hans, now, can you promise me that?" I nodded profusely as tears welled in my eyes, I had read his mind; I knew what was coming. We would be separated, possibly forever, onto the two different trucks, he with the men and me with the women and children. "No tears, Evie," he chuckled, knowing what I had just seen. He gently wiped the tears from my cheeks, "You are a citizen of Berlin, your family has lived here for generations, therefore you are a proud German, no matter what religion your parents practiced; don't let them tell you otherwise." By the manner of his tone, he could have been tucking me into bed having just read me a bedtime story and given me an extra cookie with my supper, but I knew differently, he had just told me that the situation I was in would require me to be strong.

I nodded again and wiped all the wetness from my face to show him I would do what he asked. I giggled lightly as he smiled broadly with pride and tapped my nose affectionately.

"Ready, Albert," Hans was back.

My father angled his head to the sergeant in reply. Then he wrapped his arms around me, kissed my nose, after which I snuggled into his warm, protective chest, then, with one last squeeze he whispered in my ear.

"Ich liebe dich, meine wunderkind."

_I love you, my miraculous girl._


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks for the reviews guys! Much appreciated! This chapter's up so quickly because I was listening to the soundtrack _all day_ (it is amazing, you should all buy it!) and it motivated me to get onto the juicey bits when Evie is older!

Slight warning for this chapter, there's a small paragraph in it some may find distressing; you have been warned!

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>1944<p>

I looked out of our cell and glared at the soldiers. My forehead was pressed to the mesh and my hands lightly gripped the cage with my tiny fingers poked through the holes. I don't remember how long we had been here, confined in that damp, cold, metal prison. I shared the cell with fourteen other children, without hardly any food, or comfortable beds to sleep on, or parents to snuggle up to, the youngest would cry themselves to sleep. The youngest ones were no more than three and at first they would not stop crying, until the guards became sick of one's continuous cries for her mother and she was taken away; we never saw her again. From then on I helped them all sleep; I never forgot my father's words, so I stayed strong for them as well as him. I entered their minds and calmed them with a lullaby until, at best, they fell in to fitful sleep.

Some of them were asleep now, lying, curled up to one another, using each other as a substitute for pillows and blankets.

Suddenly, the large, thick and heavy metal door of our section opened and a kind familiar face entered. It was Sergeant Hans.

He briefly smiled and winked at me when he saw me waiting. I smiled and retracted my head away from the metal wire. He ordered the privates guarding us away and then, once they were out of sight, he knelt down in front of me and pulled out a large piece of bread and some cheese from the inside pocket of his grey military jacket.

The other children in my cell all rushed forward on seeing the food and gathered around behind me. This was a rather bountiful amount of food compared to what he would usually bring us; I later found out that he was giving us some of his ration, and that this day they had all been given extra. We watched him hungrily as he broke the loaf and cheese into small enough pieces so he could pass them through the holes in the mesh. I passed the pieces around and made sure the younger ones all had enough before I allowed him to give me my share; we ate the cheese and bread quickly like ravenous animals.

After I had finished, he placed his finger to his lips, giving us the secretive signal he always did; _shh, don't tell anyone_. Then he straightened up, called the privates back in and then left. We never saw him again.

* * *

><p>One day, I was in my usual position glaring at the soldier on guard, with my fingers gripped through the holes; my forehead had been leaning against the mesh for so long that the pattern of it had imprinted into my skin.<p>

I occasionally read their minds, it past the time away; I could tell what they were about to do or say, most of it I did not understand at the time. Since coming to this place I had begun to delve into minds a lot more frequently than I used to.

One of the soldiers came in and I heard they were going to move us. We had been locked up, separately from the concentration camp because none of us were over the age of ten, but now there had been a command from the top that we were to be integrated into the camps main population; or so I thought.

They unlocked the cell and began moving us out, we put up no fuss, we were all quiet by then; there was not enough will left in us, there were no more tears left to cry. I made sure I was last I gently reassured them and ushered them through, but as the last were wrangled out and only I was left, the new sergeant shouted something at his men and I could not help but see the horrific images which lay just behind his cold eyes.

_- A huge empty chamber, naked adults and older children, screaming, crying, as they were being horded into it, the chamber packed, the doors closing, sealed, the screaming was louder, you could hear it, then the doors opening, then bodies, naked bodies laying on the floor-_

In a flash I was back in our cell; I had gripped the mesh so tightly that the thin metal wire had cut into my fingers causing me to bleed.

Rage and terror unexpectedly flooded through me.

Then I felt it, my skin began to tingle. The hairs on my skin stood, charged and on end.

But so did the soldiers.

All three of them had felt it and looked around at each other, asking, with looks, if the others knew what was happening, they shrugged, passing it off as a chilling breeze. Then they moved towards me to continue corraling me out of the cell as they had with the others.

But I was having none of it.

Immediately any inanimate object in the cell that was not tied down began to vibrate and rise. The medal on the sergeant's jacket pulled itself up, it yanked at his pocket as if trying to reach the ceiling. The soldiers were confused and looked around for the source of the strange phenomenon.

They were not causing it and the only other in the cell was me. Their cruel eyes found me.

The ends of my small fingers began to spark with blue electricity; it flashed over the iron mesh I was still gripping to, still tightly, behind me.

Then the sergeant looked at me with a sadistic smile pasted on his cold face.

A chill of cold fear ran up my spine.

The heavy metal door to the section closed and the wheel spun too quickly for the privates to stop it and locked it shut; we were all trapped.

The mesh now began to vibrate, violently and the lights flickered, the sergeants medal finally ripped itself from his pocket at it stuck to the ceiling. The two privates were now pressed up against the wall, trying to get as far away from me as possible, I could see they were shaking.

The sergeant however, took a step closer, he slowly raised his gun and pointed it at me. It too began to shake as I tried to pry it from his grasp. He held fast and he was still smiling. His finger moved to the trigger.

I would know when he would be about to shoot; I was in his head.

All four walls of my cell cracked with the harsh blue light of my electricity, it was a warning.

Whuch he ignored.

He pulled the trigger and so did I.

* * *

><p>Shock - Horror! :)<p>

Right, I'm not sure if I should give her an encounter with Shaw/Klaus Schmidt, you know as a parallel with Erik . . . Ahh! we'll have to see how it goes! . . . TA!

(I didn't think I'd be too bothered about reviews, but after the unexpected excitement I got from reading the first two, I think I am! So thanks again guys!)


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews guys! I am taking every one of them in . . . *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* . . .

now, ENJOY!

* * *

><p>My heart was hammering against my chest, if the anticipation didn't kill me, what was waiting for me would. I was sat in front of a desk in an office of brown mahogany. But one wall, the one to the right of me, was completely made out of glass. Beyond it lay a white room, a metal tablet sat in its middle and the walls were adorned with a morbid collection of menacing looking surgical equipment, large wide saws, long pairs of what looked like sharp nail clippers and shiny, hefty metal syringes. I looked away; the room disturbed me and sent a nervous shiver up my spine. Even though I was only nine, my mind raced through the unpleasant possibilities of what that room was used for.<p>

But looking away did not help my discomfort. There was only one reason as to why I could be here; I was waiting to be told off - or something worse - There were two soldiers in the room with me, quiet as if they weren't even here, their guns were cocked, guarding the door lest I decided to try and escape. Like I'd try! I was a nine year old girl with the physique of a six year old; I had no chance against two brawny and armed soldiers! But my mind, against my will, flashed back to the burnt bodies of the sergeant and the two young privates lying dead, crumpled and smouldering on the floor of the scorched cell.

I insistently shook my head trying to dispel the horrific images of the dead men from my mind.

No, I could not have done that . . . What would my father think of me? What would he have said as he watched my skin begin to glaze with those frightening, jumping lines of ice-blue energy? He knew about my telepathy, but this . . . this was something completely different, this was dangerous. I had killed _three _people and the worst part of it was, I had not meant to. Seeing those horrifying, sick images behind the heartless smile of the sergeant had woke in me pure terror, a terror I could not control. That was why I did not read the minds of the two soldiers guarding me; I was frightened that I would see something that would spark within me that same uncontainable terror; that is why I would try never reading a person's mind ever again.

I was staring at the wall in front of me, gazing at the scenic painting that hung from it, when the door opened behind me and I twisted around in my chair to see a slimy, glasses wearing man with a greying moustache stroll into the office.

He stopped, opened his arms wide and beamed with delight when he saw me. It was a smile that would usually have made me relax, it was kind and reassuring, but under the circumstances and all that I had been through, I knew better than to trust it.

I did not answer it, I just starred at him with a blank, confused expression - where was the anger, the shouts? - He sat down at his desk opposite me, and then looked at me for a minute with the same happy smile, with his hands on top of one another resting on the desk, with his eyes scanning my face. I could feel his thoughts swirling around in the air above me, whispering, tempting me to read them. Then, I flinched as he suddenly reached into one of the ornate desk draws and pulled out a large bar of milk chocolate.

"This place is full of death, Evelyn," he began cheerily, breaking himself a piece of chocolate, "In time, you will become used to it as I have." I wasn't listening, I was starring at the chocolate, "Would you like some?" he asked me kindly, seeing my wondering eyes. But he did not break off a piece as you would usually expect when someone offers you a chunk of chocolate, he just left it one piece missing but otherwise untouched in the no man's land between us. My confusion increased and my head tilted to the side slightly. Why wasn't he shouting, telling me off for the terrible thing I had just done? It seemed, instead, that he was _rewarding _me for it . . . What sort of an adult rewards a child with chocolate for committing a crime people get executed for?

But my eyes betrayed me; they darted hungrily from him to the chocolate and back again. I was starving, I had been starving for as long as I could remember first entering this cold place; all I knew now was hunger and fear. His smile widened and his eyes twinkled.

Suddenly the chocolate bar began to slowly and shakily slide towards me. The man's eyes widened in excitement and glee and he laughed in amazement.

"Remarkable," he whispered, applauding me through his astounded smile.

I ignored him, the chocolate bar was nearly within my grasp; my mouth was already watering. But then his hand clasped over the bar and the spell was broken, but not because he had taken the bar away, as soon as he had touched it he yelled in pain and reflexively retracted his hand.

"Static electricity," he mused with a smile still slapped onto his unsettlingly happy face as he once again applauded the phenomenon. He shook his hand to get rid of the spark of pain he had just felt.

He saw I was still looking expectantly at the chocolate, "If you can do that again, you can have a piece." he said as he stood up and placed the bar on top of his bookshelf.

My eyes widened in excitement as I stared at the bar; I wanted it so badly. I willed it towards me, but nothing happened, I frowned in concentration, _come to me . . . _but still nothing happened. My face began to redden with the strain, _Come on! I want you, come to me! _

My skin began to tingle as it had done in the cell. In sudden flurry of panic, I immediately let go and sat, lightheaded, breathing heavily, gripping the chair for support as my heart raced.

I looked apologetically towards the man, whose face was set into a steely disappointed frown. To a child, disappointment in an adult was worse than anger; my heart skipped a beat and my eyes began to water with dread.

"Too bad," he tutted as he slowly shook his head and reached up for the bar.

Warily, this time, he used his handkerchief to pick it up. He sat down and I watched forlornly from the edge of my seat as he removed the foil. As the brown of the chocolate was revealed he abruptly stopped and looking down at the chocolate his delighted smile was back. I frowned and leant forward trying to see what he was looking at.

The bar of chocolate looked as if it had melted and then quickly solidified. The grooves which marked out each separate piece were gone and now a flat, shiny brown plane covered the surface of the chocolate. The once sharp edges of the bar, where he had earlier snapped off a piece, were rounded off into smooth rounded lips.

The man laughed, amazed once again. He quickly snapped off a chunk of the smooth chocolate and threw it too me. I caught it and held it in my hands and looked at it wilfully. I knew I wanted it but I had not thought about what to do with it once I had it.

"Oh, I think we're going to have a lot of fun together, Evelyn," he said, reclining back into his chair, he watched me nervously nibble at the chocolate, giving me the same smile the sergeant had given me when he had pointed his gun at me.

* * *

><p>What we all wouldn't do for a piece of chocolate . . .<p>

Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

Hi everyone! Thanks for the awsome reviews! Glad your all enjoying it! :)

(Erik Lensherr/Magneto, belongs to Marvel and their assosiates)

Do enjoy!

* * *

><p>I sighed softly as I lightly trialed my hand across the plastic bars on my new cell, it was the closest thing I had to stimulation and I had lost count of how many times I had circled it. I slumped down on to my straw bed and stared at the ceiling. Then remembering I still had the piece of chocolate stashed in my straw mattress I turned onto my side and delved my hand into the rough straw. I quickly found the little smooth chunk and pulled it out. I had slowly nibbled the once large piece away bit by bit, only allowing myself a small bit each time, so now it was only the size of a penny.<p>

I was about to have my days worth, when I jumped as the door to the section I was locked up in swung open suddenly I quickly stashed the chocolate back away and watched as a boy was dragged through it by a couple of plastic clad soldiers. They threw him roughly into the corner of the only other cell, next to mine, which was also made out of plastic; the whole section was made out of plastic.

After my little incident in the other one, where they, along with I, had discovered I could generate and then expel electric-like energy trough my skin - which at the time, had conducted through the iron clad room and fried all the soldiers to cinders within it - they had decided not to give me that chance again so they had made a whole new _plastic _section just for me.

I watched as the boy backed away as far from the door of his cell as he could and curled into a tight ball in the corner, not saying a word. I waited for the guards to leave before I walked to the side of my cell which linked with his. He looked older than I did, around twelve or thirteen. He was skinny, but he had a kind, tear stained, face which made me want to comfort him.

"Hello," I said as confidently as I could as I wrapped my skinny fingers around the plastic bars.

I frowned in disappointment when he did not reply. I could have just read his mind to see who he was, what his name was and why he was here, but I dared not. Not in fear of what I would hear, he was a boy, he would not have the same level of horrific images the sergeant had. It was because I felt sorry for him, he looked upset and I didn't want to distress him further. But there was something else. When the soldiers come in, I can feel their thoughts, I don't read them, but I can _feel_ them. With this boy I felt nothing. He wasn't saying anything but he aslo wasn't even _thinking_.

"Hello?" I said again, but this time a little more brashly. He still didn't answer and he still wasn't thinking. He had a blank expression on his face and he was starring at his hands. He needed to talk, his silence worried me. "Alright then, don't say anything, I don't care." I said over exaggerating on the sulky in an effort to get a response out of him.

It worked; he slowly looked up at me.

"Hello," he murmured shortly, but his gaze stayed on me longer than he had expected, he frowned.

Then suddenly - catching me unawares - thoughts entered his head and I could do nothing to stop myself from hearing them.

_Why is she here? She can't be, what, any older than seven? . . . Why does Schmidt want her? . . . Can she do what I can . . . ? _

"I'm small for my age, I'm actually nine," I burst out, completely forgetting that he had _thought _his questions rather than having _said_ them. His eyes widened slightly at my outburst, he didn't say anything so I thought there would be no harm in carrying on, "I was taken from my father," I said, lowering my tone shyly, "I was put somewhere with some other children, then-" I hesitated, not wanting to remember, "Then I was moved here. Is _Schmidt _the man who gave me chocolate? And what do you mean_ do what I can_?" I was intrigued, so my tone was not harsh.

He gazed at me, bewilderment now slapped on his earlier expressionless face, "What? How did you-?"

"I can hear what you're thinking," I said simply, breaking eye connect and timidly adding an innocent smile.

"You can hear what I'm thinking?" he repeated confusedly as he wiped his face free of tears and slowly stood up and walked towards me.

His fascinated tone gave me confidence so I looked back at him and perked up.

"Yep, I can also make things float and-" I began boastfully but I stopped, deciding not to tell him about the more dangerous aspect of _that_ ability, "So, what can you do?"

"I'm not sure-" he mused slowly, but then he delved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a coin.

I watched in silence as he held it flat in his palm and stared at it, frowning like he had a rather bad headache. Then, eventually, he made it levitate above his palm, but only for several seconds before he lost control and it dropped back into his hand.

I looked at him with wide eyes, "You can make things float too!" I squealed in excitement.

"No-" he began, his face scrunched as he tried to find the right words, "Well earlier – it was only the metal things-"

Behind his eyes I saw amazing pictures; a huge intimidating but twisted metal gate in the rain – and the shiny surgical equipment flying around inside the white room - a crumpled brass bell –

I beamed and ran to my straw bed. I took what was left of my chocolate and wiped it clean of hay as I skipped back to him. Then I thrust my scrawny arm through the plastic bars and offered it to him. He looked thin and underfed and the grief in his eyes made me feel that giving him the chocolate was the right thing to do; if it didn't cheer him up, at least it would keep him alive just a little bit longer.

"My name's Evelyn," I said, and smiled warmly. He looked from me to the chocolate not knowing what to do. I smiled gesturing for him to take it.

"Erik Lensherr," he answered. And then smiling for the first time since he had arrived he accepted my small, but in some ways large, peace offering.


	6. Chapter 6

I sat in the Doctor's office; sucking on the new piece of chocolate he had just given me for melting a coin; one much like the one Erik kept hold of so tightly.

It was a couple of days after I had first met Erik. It was late afternoon when they first brought him in and I had spent the rest of the daylight hours –at his insistence - showing him what I could do. I floated his coin, as he had, and after telling him about the chocolate, I had tried to melt it but failed, only causing the coin to vibrate violently before it became too much. He would think things and I would repeat them out loud. Up until now, all I knew of my telepathic ability was that I could only read the thoughts as they came, I could not read them before or after, only when the person them self thought of them. He seemed fascinated by my powers. He believed himself to be the only one; well you would do after only knowing for a day that you had the ability to manipulate metal. I had not thought like that, in some way my telepathy had always been with me, I had always been able to answer people's questions before they asked them, it was the way my brother Michael and I always communicated.

That night I slept more soundly than I ever had done since leaving my father. But Erik had not slept at all.

How did I know he did not sleep that night? He wasn't dreaming, that's how.

The second night I was woken up by a nightmare that was not my own. It had not frightened me as such, but it had intruded my sleep. I woke up but I could still hear the dream. I had looked around our plastic cells to see if anything was out of the ordinary, there was only Erik, but he was curled up, twitching in his sleep, on his straw mattress –the coin was still in his hand. Then I realized that it was _his _dream I was hearing.

He intrigued me so much, to the point where I stayed awake and listened to the dream as it unfolded in his head. They were strange dreams, eerily foggy and vague. They scared me but captivated me all at the same time. The Doctor was their main theme; I did not understand the feeling of fear and anger radiating from Erik every time he crept into the dreams. But there was someone else, someone who radiated warmth and safety; but these feelings would only stay for a second before they were swathed away by the anger and fear.

That same Doctor looked at me now, watching me through those grey eyes over his horn-rimmed glasses. I glanced at the coin between us. I had melted it and then recast it exactly back to how it originally was; swastika and all. He had not needed to threaten me, only offer me more chocolate. This was why I did not understand Erik's fear of him; this man gave me chocolate, a thing I considered valuable seeing as we never used to have it a home. The Doctor was right, we _were_ having fun.

But unbeknownst to me, the fun would not last long.

* * *

><p>When I was returned to my cell, Erik was there waiting for me.<p>

I walked in, staring at my arm.

"Did they hurt you? Are you alright?" he asked earnestly as he scanned my body for harm.

"No," I said quietly, still looking at my forearm, "What does this mean?" I asked as I walked towards him and showed him my arm.

I poked it through the bars so he could have a better look. My soft skin was red-raw around the area where they had tattooed the numbers 407129 in black ink onto the underside of my forearm. I flinched when he ran his thumb gently over it and felt that it was red hot. He muttered an apology and let my arm go.

He smiled kindly, "You're right after me, look," he said, as he rolled up the mucky skirt sleeve of his left arm to reveal an identical tattoo to mine; still slightly red but with the different numbers 407128.

My confused frown turned to a happy smile; we had found another thing which related us.

* * *

><p>Later that day Erik was taken away. He didn't kick up a fuss or try to struggle; perhaps he should have, maybe then they would have knocked him out.<p>

I sat on my bed and waited for him to return; but that night he didn't. My visits to the Doctor had been short and not anywhere near as long as this. He'll be back in the morning, I kept telling myself until, slumped against the wall, exhausted – I was always exhausted - I eventually fell asleep.

When I woke up next morning, I expected Erik to be safely asleep in his cell next to me, but he wasn't. When the guards came in to give us our daily ration of a small biscuit sized piece of hard stale, maggoty filled bread I asked them where Erik was but they didn't answer me and they didn't leave any food in Erik's cell.

I tried not to worry, but I was nine and for the longest period of time since leaving my father, I was completely alone.

* * *

><p>Again, that night Erik did not return, and again I tried to stay awake, but through a combination of worry and malnutrition I fell into a restless sleep.<p>

My dream was familiar - foggy and filled with fear and anger. I instantly woke up thinking I was hearing one of Erik's dreams, it was morning the sun was bright and casting a warm slit of light through the thin windows onto the floor of the cells, but he wasn't in his. No, it hadn't been his dream, it had been mine.

I lay myself on the floor where the warm sunlight was, it warmed me; but only on the outside. I moved every so often as it moved. I thought as I lay there.

I could read the thoughts of the guards to find out what had happened to Erik, but would what I find there reassure me, tell me what I wanted to hear, that Erik was alright, that he had somehow escaped and was now safe with his family, eating well and being happy? Then I thought selfishly, how could he leave me? I shook my head deciding that 'thinking' was a bad idea.

Then the guards came in again to let me out to have a turn in the yard. I walked into the dusty compound but the air was humid and smelt unpleasant. I stretched my legs a bit and then I watched through the two layered fence as the black smoke rose into the air from a hard, red building across the road separating us from the main facility. I couple of military vehicles sped down the road unsettling the dust so it rose high enough to shield the smoke from my view. This outing was going on longer than had I expected. I turned to face the guards who were watching me, but they made no movement to come and get me to bring me back inside.

Then, behind them, out of the building where they would take me when I went to see the Doctor, four soldiers came out; two of them were carrying a stretcher. As they came closer into view I saw who was lyingm pale and unconscious on it; Erik.

I couldn't move I didn't know what to do, I wanted to scream and kick the soldiers carrying him, but I couldn't move; I was shocked. Then once they had disappeared with him into our cell building the guards came over and held me by the arms and led me to the entrance of the Doctor's building.

I didn't know what was going on; I was frightened all I knew was that I wanted to be with Erik. The guards weren't talking but I could feel them thinking as they ushered me down the corridors to the Doctor's office. I would ask him, he would know what they had done to Erik.

"Hello Evelyn!" he called in greeting, smiling, and standing up – he was wearing a white surgical apron - as I was sat on the chair opposite him, "How are we today?" he added, sitting back down.

"What's wrong with Erik?" I asked, "Where has he been and why were them men carrying him on that stretcher?"

"Ah, I heard you two had become friendly," he murmured then leant forwards, "He's fine, nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about, we just did a few . . . tests on him, to see if he was healthy." He said, smiling pleasantly at the end as if trying to assure me, but I didn't answer him I just frowned. Surely, _tests to see if he was healthy,_ was a good thing? Like a Doctor's check-up?

Yes, Erik would be alright. I nodded slowly.

"Good," he praised, standing up and walking around to my side and holding his hand out for me to take, which I did and I slid off the chair as he led me to the glass door of the white-room, "Today, we're going to be having fun in here," he said looking down at me, smiling then opening the door.

As we entered the white-room, a sterile, clinical smell of disinfectant wafted up my nostrils, I wrinkled my nose in discomfort as the smell brusquely invaded my senses. But I noticed that something was different. Instead of the metal equipment I saw hung from the walls in here the first time, now identical, translucent plastic tools had taken their places. We stopped in front of the now white porcelain tablet and the Doctor bent down, "Up we go," he said as he lifted me up and perched me on the edge of it.

He left me there, clinging nervously to the edge and swinging my legs, as he moved to a table to the left of me and picked something up. He turned around with a plastic syringe in his hands. My eyes widened in fear.

"Now, this will only hurt if you struggle," he said as he walked back to me. I stared at him, my eyes wide as I flinched away from him remembering the painful needle which had given me my tatoo, "Now, now, Evelyn, I shall give you some chocolate if you sit still for me?" he said humbley. He knew exactly how to play me.

I held out my arm and looked away.

* * *

><p>Hi! Thanks for the reviews guys!<p>

For those a little confused by her maturity, the story is being told by an older Evie, so she knows a lot more about things now; she's looking back on her life, so it's a bit like a memoir :)

Thank you!


	7. Chapter 7

Hi! Thanks everyone!

All characters, except my own, belong to Marvel :)

* * *

><p>I do not wish to remember the pain between that first moment he took blood from me and the last; in fact, I cannot.<p>

Sometimes I get wisps of memory from those agonizing hours on the cold surface of the tablet. They appear in my dreams as distant visions, never fully taking shape, always in the background. There will always be a part of me which will not fully understand why I will sometimes wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat, breathing rapidly and fearing to go back to sleep.

Charles says that the mind has a way of shielding us from our most painful memories; it does not delete them, it pushes them deep down into our subconscious, lying beneath the surface, waiting to be called to the front. When I am ever overanxious or alone, I feel an overwhelming irrational fear. Not at all like an instinctive fear which sends adrenaline through the system and tells you to run, hide or flee. No, a crushing fear which grips me where I stand.

Erik called them panic attacks, I have only ever had three and I had one the day the British 11th Armored Division liberated our camp on the 15th April 1945.

* * *

><p>We had become used to the stench of death, so much so in fact we couldn't even smell the bodies of those left to die on the road which lined our walk from our plastic compound to the Doctor. We had become used to the starvation, the empty stomachs, our maggoty bread. Erik urged me to eat the maggots, "Just think of them as the meat," he would say, I was reluctant at first but I found myself eating them nonetheless.<p>

Three days before the British came, our food stopped. After so long, and because we were children, our bodies had accustomed themselves to only just survive on our maggots and moldy bread. We weren't extracted for testing in those three days either, so we knew something was happening.

Erik was particularly pleased about this, even though he did not show it – we didn't have the energy – I felt it and it pleased me to see his eyes twinkle again, even if it was only for a moment. If I had gone through what he had in that year, I wouldn't have survived as long as he had. His body looked broken, skeletal, pale, black and blue; but I'm sure mine wouldn't have looked any better. When they took him in the mornings, he would try to fight, he used to kick and scream, but then they started to knock him out before ever transporting him the short way to the Doctor. I would sit and wait, always alone, in my cell, fearing that this would be the day that he wouldn't come back, but he always did and I always loved him for it. We had grown up a lot in that year.

That day, I remember I was lying in the corner of my cell - in the corner I shared with Erik - he was sat next to me and I had my hand clasped in his through the bars between us. We had moved our mattresses to these corners; this was how we slept now, for warmth and reassurance; it was the closest we could ever get to one another.

He had squeezed my hand to wake me, it was easily done, we only slept lightly then.

"Somethings happening outside, can you have a look?" he asked me in a whisper.

I rubbed my eyes and sat up; it was still dark outside. I listened. There was the sound of muffled shouts and running. I had long gotten over my fear of peering in on the soldiers thoughts, so, obeying him, I broadened my mind.

"They're moving all of the Doctor's equipment onto a truck," I said, exiting the young private's frantic mind, "He seemed in a hurry."

"Can you find Schmidt?" he asked me.

My eyes widened and I shook my head. He smiled sympathetically and squeezed my hand again, "Go back to sleep," he whispered, "We've still got another few hours till morning."

* * *

><p>I woke up to the sound of truck engines and shouts. Daylight was coming in through the small slits and shadows were moving around outside; I could hear voices, but they sounded new and strange. I glanced at Erik, he was asleep.<p>

"Erik," I nudged him, his eyes opened, "Erik, somethings happening outside," I nudged him again as I looked frightened from him to the door. He sat up and listened.

"That's not German . . ." he mused as he listened to the voices.

He looked at me, frowning, and I didn't have to read his mind to see what he was asking. I broadened my mind.

The first thoughts I came across were scrambled, filled with shock and distress, I couldn't quite make out them . . . I furrowed my brow and concentrated. Then suddenly a barrage of thoughts bombarded me. Images of the dead people outside, the smell was nauseating - all new through the man's thoughts – then came his spoken thoughts, I couldn't understand them; this man wasn't speaking my language. I had never heard another language spoken before and it terrified me.

I opened my eyes as fear took me.

"What is it?" I heard Erik's alarmed question, "Evie, what did you see?" He had grabbed the sides of my head through the bars and was holding my face gently so I was facing him.

"Voices – strange-" I stammered trying to contain myself, "I couldn't understand them – I - "

Then I screamed as the door was suddenly blasted open and the cells were saturated with a thick fog of dust and debris. Erik's hands were no longer on my face and the air was filled with the muffled strange voices. The explosion had momentarily deafened me and my coughs and my shouts for Erik sounded far away.

Then I saw a terrifying sight. A pair of disembodied hands came reaching out of the dust towards me. I looked away and attempted to scream again but my senses were that disoriented that I couldn't, the sound stuck in my throat as the hands grabbed me around the waist and gently pulled me up off the ground. I kicked and tried to pry the hands off me, but they just held me tighter. My hearing was slowly coming back and the same unfamiliar language permeated the air again. Then suddenly I was met by a blinding light, the dust had gone and I managed to look around.

A man was holding me, he was saying something in a soothing voice but obviously I couldn't understand him. My heart pace quickened and I felt warm tears begin to streak down my grimy face. The man attempted to wipe them away, it was a kind gesture, but for a terrified ten year old it was petrifying. I kicked and cried, and tried anything for him to let me go, I began to panic. I couldn't see Erik anywhere, just the men in green uniforms.

Then I couldn't breathe. At once, and totally unexpectedly, I stopped fighting and I suddenly hung unwillingly limply in the soldier's arms. He noticed I had stopped thrashing and he set me down in front of him. I managed to stand on my own with him knelt in front of me holding my forearms. I stood stock still, rooted to the spot as I began to hyperventilate. My vision became blurred and tears were rolling down my face and unbeknownst to me I was mumbling for my father.

The soldier tried his best to calm me down but nothing he did was working. Then out of nowhere I was wrapped in Erik's arms, clinging tightly to his skinny form for the first time and my crying eventually abated, my heart beat slowed to a normal pace and my breathing became even and steady; instantly I felt safe again.

* * *

><p>Ta for reading!<p>

Reviews are more than welcome :) Don't worry, after this there won't be a lot of as intense sad bits :)


	8. Chapter 8

Hey, ho, everyone!

Thanks for all the support guys, I really _do_ appreciate it :D right, this is one of my longer chapters and it contains a scene from the movie, so if its wrong I appologise now :)

Erik and his plot belong to Marvel, NOT ME! :(

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>Geneva, Switzerland<p>

1962

I stood at the filling cabinet, franticly searching, flicking back the files while every few seconds pausing and looking up and listening before quickly carrying on.

I reached the back of the draw and, overly frustrated – because I _knew_ that this was the right room and even though I had turned the whole place upside down and _still_ managed not to find what I was looking for - without touching it, I slammed the heavy metal draw shut with way too much force than necessary.

A reverberating clang resonated off the walls and shook down the corridor outside.

I instantly froze, suspended in the middle of the room, my eyes wide. Expertly - it was second nature to me now – I extended my mind.

Unfortunately, two security guys had heard the loud smash of the draw and were now coming in my direction to investigate.

I exited their minds but now I could hear their heavy footsteps coming towards me down the corridor. That corridor was my only escape route.

"_Shit,_" I breathed feverishly, "_Shit, shit, shit-shit, shit!" _I continued to curse as if doing it would increase my chances of liberation as I franticly searched the room again, but this time for somewhere to hide.

I found it. Beside the door was a tall, but most importantly free standing, large metal cabinet. If I managed to climb up on top of it I could easily ambush them both as they came in through the door.

So I deftly scrabbled up and crouched on top of it; it was a good thing I was small, it was rather a tight squeeze.

Just as I comfortably positioned myself, I heard the unmistakable crackle of the security radio asking again what they were doing, "We just heard something from Personnel Storage, probably nothing. Over." Responded a hoarse voice.

I clearly heard their French reply; it confirmed to me that they were just outside the room.

"That's funny," said the other, he had a smoother, younger voice, "The door's ajar?"

I watched from my perch beside the door and stopped breathing as it - I had stupidly left it half open - slowly opened all the way.

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, in the more upend area of the bank; an older Erik Lensherr was sat opposite the bank's manager, in his ornate, gold gilded, period office, with one bullion of Nazi gold placed on the top of his thin brief case which lay on the large mahogany desk in front of him.<p>

"I'm just here to cash in this bullion made up of the stolen jewellery, teeth and other wears of my people." he said genially in perfect French.

The manager hesitated, his eyes widened in fear and darted from the bullion to Erik and back again, "Please leave, we cannot accept that here." he said quietly, intimidated.

He slowly - thinking Erik could not see - reached for the button under his desk which would set the alarm off which would lock down the whole bank, instantly trapping everyone inside.

"Ah, tut, tut, tut," Erik murmured disappointedly as he raised his hand and stopped the bank manager from reaching the security button by manipulating the man's metal watch, "Do not touch that button,"

Erik let the watch go and it ricocheted, along with the manager's hand, hitting him in the face. Then Erik stood up, walked around the desk and perched himself on it beside the man.

"All I want you to do is tell me where Schmidt is, Klaus Schmidt, where I can find him, and then I'll be _quietly _on my way." He said charmingly even though it was a threat. He crossed his arms, indicating to the man that he could wait.

"We're not that sort of bank," murmured the frightened manager.

Erik shrugged and rolled his eyes as if giving up, but then he leaned closer to the terrified older man and gripped the back of his chair then pushed against it so the man reclined backwards somewhat and so that Erik was now leaning, menacingly over him.

"Ah, what are these?" he asked looking at the manager's mouth as he raised his hand and positioned it above the man's face, "_Metal_ fillings?"

The manager frowned in confusion and fear at the threatening tone in Erik's strange words, "What-?" but he could not continue because a blinding pain was suddenly issuing from the filling on the right side of his bottom set of teeth.

"Tell me where Schmidt is," breathed Erik as he slowly twisted the filling, painfully slowly, loosening it from the terrified man's mouth.

The bank manager let out a muffled cry of pain, "Argentina!" he yelled, or tried to, the pain was unbearable, "Schmidt is in Argentina!"

"Where," asked Erik through gritted teeth, as the man gave another twisted yell of agony as the filling was pulled slowly away from its tooth anchor.

"Villa Castrol!" cried the manager.

It was too late; the filling flew from his mouth and into Erik's hand where Erik revolved it with the tips of his fingers and found that it was made from pure gold. He chuckled darkly then threw the lump of discard-able metal into the corner of the room as he moved swiftly around to the other side of the desk to collect his things.

"Thank you." He placed the bullion back in his case, closed it with a gentle click and began to stroll across the room to the door, "Now, I would just love to kill you," his said, his accent was perfect and without looking back he reached for the handle, "So, I wouldn't touch that button."

* * *

><p>"Some idiot probably forgot to close it," said the rasping voice of the first security guard,<p>

_Hurry up so we're back in time for lunch, before all the lasagne goes this time -_ I managed to hold in my laugh at the man's gluttonous thought as the other, younger, security guard walked in first and stopped in the doorway to survey the storeroom. From what he could tell there was nothing out of the ordinary. And that was impressive seeing as I had turned the place upside down and back-to-front.

"Go and check between the shelves," he ordered his short fat colleague who had a large bald patch on top of his head.

He must have really loved that lasagne, because he stomped off with a huff around the small maze of over stacked rows of shelves. As his partner did this, the young one stepped over to the cabinet I was sat on top of and absentmindedly pocked through the files below me.

I began to slowly charge up, I would have to be ready; either of them could look up at any moment and see me.

But the short fat one came back and also stood below me, "Nothing out of the ordinary, now can we go please, I'm starving-"

I took this as my queue and suddenly there was an almightily sound of creaking metal as the cabinet I was on top of began to fall towards the security guards. I heard a muffled yell from both men as I launched myself off the falling cabinet and landed lightly – amazing I thought, seeing as I was wearing a pair of high-heeled GoGo boots - by the door just as the cabinet, with one last bang, crushed down into the two men and the room was shrouded once again in blissful silence.

I smiled and brushed myself down, "I'm sorry boys, I think you'll be missing out on the lasagne today."

* * *

><p>Erik was walking casually down the main corridor of the bank, passing prim suited men with a nod of the head, when suddenly an ear-splitting alarm rang continuously through the air. Erik rolled his eyes more irritated than anything.<p>

"_What did I tell him_?" he muttered, exasperated.

He picked up his pace, one more corner and he would be in the main atrium where he would inevitably have to use his ability to escape; the bank manager had seen to that when he had pressed that bloody button.

But suddenly there was a commotion up in front of him and he managed to look up just in time to see a familiar pony-tailed, strawberry-blonde haired woman - who was wearing a black _cat-suit_ of all things - skid around the end of the corridor he immediately stopped and flinched as a sudden deafening crack exploded through the air as she sent a beam of what looked like lightening down the corridor she had just come around.

The layout of the corridor was such that the exit to the atrium was situated half way down it, she had just come around one end as he had stopped near this exit, he had watched, stunned still, as the chaos she had just caused ensued and slowly he realized who she was.

"Evie?" he called and laughed in disbelief as the woman he had known since he was thirteen, but had not seen in almost eight years, came hurtling towards him.

I jarred to a sudden stop halfway towards the exit on hearing the man suddenly call out my name.

I gasped, shocked and overwhelmed by the sudden rush of emotion, at the sudden and totally unexpected reappearance of the man staring amusedly back at me. He had grown considerably more handsome since we had last seen each other; _that_ was why I hadn't instantly recognized him; if he hadn't called out my name I would have blasted him to high heaven.

"Erik?" I ran over to him yelling over the sound of the alarm, "What the-?" I began but I had momentarily forgotten I was being chased and I didn't finish because suddenly, through the dissipating smoke behind me, came the sound of many gun shots and the whizzing of ricocheting bullets which felt much too close for comfort.

"Come on!" Erik yelled too cheerfully for my liking as he grabbed my hand with his free one and whisked me into the atrium.

Erik was momentarily blinded by bright sunlight; the wall of glass which made up the front of the bank radiated the atrium with light and he noticed that the metal security bars _already_ covered the bottom panes sealing our exit to the door.

But Erik noticed that I had stopped and had gone into a defensive stance with my back pressed to his, for a different reason: we were surrounded by armed men whose guns were pointed in our direction.

The alarm was unexpectedly switched off and the world was violently plunged into silence.

_Shall I take care of the guards while you get the door?_ I projected the thought into Erik's head.

He slowly turned his head to his left and half smiled, confidently in agreence.

_From three? _He thought as he turned back to their surroundees.

_Three . . . two . . . one! _I broadcasted the countdown into our heads.

On one I swiftly straightened up and with a casual flick of both my wrists, I raised the many guns of the security guards into the air and let them hover just out of their reach.

As I did this, Erik faced both of his palms to the large metal bars in front of the glass double doors, then he jerked them violently to the sides as if pulling apart a pair of curtains, and with a deafening groan of grinding metal the bars covering the door pulled apart.

Erik turned and watched in awe as I melted the guns in unison, and then let the discernable lumps of black plastic fall to the feet of the helpless guards who were watching the two of us in fearful amazement.

Erik picked up his case with a knowing, broad grin on his face, "I'll give you the pleasure of opening the door," he said charmingly.

"Ever the gentleman weren't we Erik?" I teased verbally, but obliged him nonetheless.

I walked to stand next to him then focused on the glass of the door. I willed it to smash, and after a resounding crack it did, with a shattering blast into millions of tiny, dust sized particles; which the wind instantly began to play with sending it whirling through the atrium. It shrouded us and we were helpfully hidden in the cloud of swirling dust.

* * *

><p>Do you like? :D<p>

I found this quite difficult to write, I'm not that good when it comes to writting action bits :( so this has gone through quite a lot of changes (as has the next chapter - :O SPOILERS!)

Thanks for sticking with us, again!


	9. Chapter 9

We ran down the flight of stone steps, I, just in front, leading the way. I led him into a small side alley just out of sight of the bank.

"Wait here, I'll be back in a tick," I said, out of breath. He opened his mouth to retort but I had already gone. He growled in frustration but he crouched down and decided to trust me and took the tense moment to catch his breath.

After a minute of anxious waiting, there was the loud screech of rubber wheels on concrete and the next thing he knew, a deep green, four seat, 1962 Aston Martin convertible had squealed to a stop at the entrance to the alley way. He stood up quickly, ready for action, but then he noticed that I was in the driver's seat.

"Come on then, get in!" I yelled, waving him over and revving the engine so as a loud impressive growl sounded through the air.

I watched, amused, and rolled my eyes as he looked with admiration at the car – men and their cars - and then he threw his case into the back so it landed on the small back seat with a heavy clunk before - not even bothering with the door – he vaulted into the seat beside me.

"What's in the case?" I asked frowning at the weird noise it had made.

"That Nazi bullion we stole," he said, smiling fondly as he remembered.

I smirked impressed that he still had it, then slammed my foot down on the accelerator and the wheels squealed and the engine roared as I sped out of the alleyway.

"Where the hell did you get an Aston Martin?" he asked me with a laugh, over the imposing roar of the supercars engine as the thundering sound bounced off the narrow alleyway walls.

"It's a company car," I answered as I turned onto the main street and - with the adrenaline still flowing - tried my best to drive as normally as I could through the slow Genevan traffic.

He didn't reply so I quickly glanced to my left and found a confused but amazed expression on his face; I smiled, "I work for MI6 now," I called over the sound of the air rushing past as we drove.

"Ah, that explains the cat-suit," he said with a smirk as he looked me quickly up and down.

"It's not a _cat-suit_," I mumbled, turning back to the road and not bothering to explain to him – with what felt like the umpteenth time - that it was in fact a black turtleneck jumper and tight fitting black pants; I could move a lot more easily around in this attire more than if I was dressed a suit, which was the norm for my _male _colleagues; but wearing it did attract a lot of attention.

"So, what brings you here, to lovely Geneva?" I asked him as I overtook the slow moving cars.

He hesitated. I sighed, knowing that if he wanted a secret kept, he would keep it and no amount of _verbal _persuasion would get it out of him.

I skirted the edge of his conscious thought as we drove down the cobbled high street passing the large beautiful white-stone buildings, I was not purposefully trying to read the thoughts there which teased me – I had promised him I would never do that - I was just warning him; if he continued to keep the information I wanted to know secret, I would forcefully retrieve it.

His eyes darted to me in the instant he felt me gently touch his mind. My expression was firm with a slight twinge of amusement. He rolled his eyes in defeat.

"I'm heading for Argentina;" He said simply glancing over his shoulder as a distant sound of sirens reached his ears, "Villa Castrol."

"Why?" I asked as we slowed to a stop at a junction.

He looked at me with a beseeching expression, for some reason he feared telling me. My mind ran through the possibilities. The high profile bank, the Nazi gold bullion we had stolen years ago in his case . . . slowly it all clicked into place.

"It's Schmidt, isn't it?" I said slowly and a little accusingly, "That's what you've been doing all these years?" I laughed sardonically not wanting to believe that he had wasted eight years of his life chasing a man that wasn't worth it.

"It's Sebastian Shaw, now." He corrected quietly

"What? – _Shaw_? Sebastian Shaw?" I exclaimed, forgetting my anger and looking with wide eyes from him to the road and back again as the traffic began to move again.

He frowned, "Do you know him-?" he began but he was sorely interrupted by a loud gunshot and the pinging sound of a bullet as it ricocheted off the boot of the car.

I recoiled down instinctively then glanced in the rear-view mirror.

"Bugger," I cursed as two white Volkswagen Swiss police cars weaved their way furiously towards us through the thin traffic, "If that leaves a scratch -" I murmured heatedly, setting my eyes on the road ahead and slamming my foot down once again.

We ducked again as another loud gunshot whizzed past the car.

"Yes I know him," I yelled and began to explain as I increased the speed and merged through the traffic trying to lose the police cars, "We had a tip off that he was a Nazi Collaborator-" I yelled as, suddenly, the wheels of the Aston screeched in protest as I turned the sharp corner onto an even busier route but the sirens from the police cars were still behind us.

"I was at the bank searching for Shaw's details, so I could locate him - you know follow his movements-" I glanced at Erik, he was looking at me intensely, but clinging tightly to the car as I sped, much too fast, through the meandering traffic.

Then, by the clanging sound of it, a bullet became embedded in the back of the car, "-Stop firing!" I yelled but flinched a moment later as yet another gunshot rang out from behind us, "Right that's it! There's a gun in that compartment," I glanced furiously at Erik and pointed at the glove compartment and then, goaded, I gestured for him to hand me the gun.

I snatched it out of his hand, "I couldn't find them, _obviously_, because he was using his real name _Schmidt!" _I rambled on,agitated as I aggressively clicked a clip into the silver hand gun while still holding the steering wheel.

"Take the wheel?" I asked Erik, who looked at me with a crazed expression. But before I heard an answer I took my hands from the steering wheel and twisted around in my seat with my feet still on the pedals I aimed for the lead police car.

"Evie! What are you-?" Erik cried, but he immediately grabbed the wheel as I let go.

The cars we whizzed past were beeping in objection as they had to swerve out of the way and my hair was partially covering my vision as the jet stream of the car blew it in my face. I steadied the gun on the seat-back and closed one eye, aiming at the police car wheels, my objective; to blow their tires.

"HOW-" Bang, "-COULD-" Bang, "-I-" Bang, "-HAVE-" Bang, " - BEEN SO _STUPID_?" Bang-bang - I yelled over the noise of my gun shots and the incessant beeping of the civilian cars.

I slipped back down having run out of bullets and only having managed to deflate the front wheel of just one of the police cars. Erik quickly gave up the wheel and watched as the police car had swerved and there was an almighty crash of glass as it jarred to a stop through a café window.

"I should have recognized him-!" I suddenly said, hitting the steering wheel with the gun still in my hand.

"Go that way," Erik yelled, instructing me, ignoring my rant.

He was pointing towards a half built bridge in front of us. There was a good sixty meter break between the two ends, with the deep waters of the le Rhône River rushing between them. If he was thinking what I thought he was, he was asking me to drive over it and no way would a car, let alone an Aston Martin, be able to jump _that_ gap - I looked at him mimicking his crazed expression from earlier.

"Trust me!" he yelled imploring me to have faith in his judgment.

I quickly glanced behind us; another two police cars had joined the chase.

"Alright?" I said doubtfully and cringed as yet another bullet skimmed the car, "But if we die-"

"We won't," he reassured me with a confident smile as he faced forwards.

I gripped the wheel tightly as we accelerated towards the bridge. We crashed through the wooden barriers at sixty miles an hour, sending splinters behind us and I tightly closed my eyes and tensed as we came up to the edge.

The next thing I knew I was looking at the other side of the bridge, then landing – rather violently – on the other side, my foot was still on the accelerator and I immediately pulled the handbrake so that the car skidded to a sudden stop on a right angle to the road.

Erik was laughing, overjoyed – he had obviously thought that using his ability to help us over the gap _would not_ work - my eyes however were wide with surprise and my hands were plastered to the wheel, my static had stuck me to it. My breathing was rapid and then I burst a laugh and looked over at Erik with a dumbfounded expression as I shook my head at his recklessness.

"Don't you _ever _allow me do something that stupid again," I murmured, I was nearly rendered speechless by the surprise of surviving.

He laughed again and glanced at the police cars which had stopped on the edge of the opposite side of the bridge, the officers had got out and were looking over at us, they didn't even bother to try and shoot us; they too were amazed by our miraculous getaway.

"To the airport then?" I confirmed as we waved to the officers and I pulled the car into gear.

He turned to me and smiled favorably, then nodded and pointed forwards, "Onwards driver!"

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! :)<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Hay hay! sorry for the slightly late update, I had my english lit exam today (waaaaa!) no, actually it went quite well :)

So heres a nice little moment between Erik and Evie for you!

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>Somewhere over the Mid-Atlantic<p>

1962

We had reached the airport, where my MI6 private jet was waiting, before the authorities; we only had the small contingent of security guards to deal with. I jumped into the cockpit and had only just started the engines set when the police came rocketing onto the runway where they met Erik who was hanging out of the jets door and pushed them back with one simple flourish of his hand before slamming the hatch shut.

I had flown the jet safely across France and landed quickly in Spain for a re-fuel and a short update to MI6 before setting off again and plotting the planes autopilot for Argentina.

I had changed out of my black apparel and into something more comfortable for the long journey we were about to undertake; a short sleeved cream turtle neck and a red tartan skirt did just nicely. I was now in the jets small toilet, staring back at my large green eyes in the mirror. My insufferably long, strawberry-blonde hair was being held away from my face by a red headband. I splashed my pale face with water.

_What are you doing?_ I asked myself, _Erik's sitting out there waiting for you . . . after eight years; he's finally the one waiting, not you . . ._

I was nineteen the last time I saw him. I had a panic attack that day at the station. It was the day he disappeared - gone, wiped clean from the surface of the Earth, vanished, nowhere to be found – He left me. The man I had depended on for ten years, the man I counted as my brother, had abandoned me without any explanation. Nothing except a large sum of money and the apartment we shared in Cambridge, England.

After being evacuated to England from Germany, saying we were brother and sister, I took Erik's last name and we were fostered by a rich elderly pair who had no more children of their own; their only son had been killed during the war. They loved us and cared for us, our father was a language teacher and he could speak perfect German. He taught us English and I picked up the language quickly, seeing as I could listen to it all day through their thoughts.

We were inseparable - well, I wouldn't let Erik out of my sight for the first few months – so we were home schooled. By the time Erik was old enough to go to University, I was a confident fourteen year old who had replaced English as her primary language. I visited Erik every weekend at his apartment in Cambridge; we were there when we heard the news that our parents had been killed in a car accident, I was seventeen and he twenty-one. They had left us everything, including their house, but from then on I lived with Erik.

I had had a promising future before Erik disappeared. I was an undergraduate studying Biology at Cambridge University; he had just completed a Masters in engineering. That day I woke up and found the bulging envelope of cash and the bank details of our foster parents account, the deeds to their house and his keys lying on the kitchen top; I dared not move the keys for weeks.

I took a deep breath and flattened down my skirt and hair, and then I walked out of the bathroom.

"There you are," he exclaimed, turning around to face me from the cushioned seat, "I thought you'd flushed yourself down the toilet, I was about to come and look for you," he added genially, smiling.

"Nope, just powdering my nose," I said a little too harshly, as I walked past him and sat down in the seat across from him.

I studied him now, with my jaw set and resting on my hands with my elbows on the table between us. He had aged considerably and become more . . . rugged - not 'dirty' rugged - but_ . . . tough_. He had an aloof and mysterious predatory air about him when once it had been carefree but resolute. He was no longer clean shaven but sported a rusty stubbly beard, his reddy hair was smoothed over and he wore a navy blue jumper.

He frowned at me, confused by my glaring confrontation.

"I should be mad at you," I mused, tapping my fingers against my cheeks and scowling.

He didn't reply, he just quickly diverted his eyes and stared out of the window at the rolling expanse of deep, blue, ocean beneath us. I could feel his frantic thoughts moving around inside his head.

"_Why_?" I asked him softly as I placed my hands on the table and tilted forward ever so slightly.

He knew exactly what I was asking and I saw his eyes and thoughts flicker as he contemplated an answer.

"I don't know," he answered just as quietly, his chatty demeanor now replaced by a hostile defense.

I scoffed and struggled to correct the sudden grief I felt rising in my chest, "I'm not a child any more, Erik, so don't give me that bullshit," I sneered, and leant closer, "_Why did you leave me?"_ I asked him again, but his time my tone was more demanding.

His eyes darted to me, he didn't answer me just searched my face apologetically.

I looked away from him and out the window instead, I was wounded by his lack of justification and looking in his eyes I could feel the distress of all those years without him intensifying, "I had a panic attack, right there, in the middle of the station," I said quietly to the window purposefully trying to make him feel guilty.

"You came after me?" he said gently, I heard the somber empathy in his voice as he leant forwards, suddenly shocked.

"_Of course_ I went after you-!" I said; trying to laugh but the air got caught in my throat.

I quickly looked away, out of the window again, and covered my face with my hand so he couldn't see me blink back the annoying tears.

We sat in silence while I composed myself. Then I felt his hand wrap around mine on the table between us. I hesitated for a long moment before looking at him. He was leant forwards, holding my hand gently in his and his face expressed regret.

"I'm sorry," he said strongly, he meant it, I felt the sorrow seeping from his thoughts, "Evie, I'm so sorry, I regretted it as soon as I left-"

"Then why didn't you come back?" I breathed and then gulped; painfully swallowing my tears.

His eyes widened on seeing me struggle, he squeezed my hand, "Because I had to leave, I had to find him - find all of them – You must understand. I _had_ to get rid of the people who ruined our lives, Evie-"

"But we were happy – safe," I stammered heatedly, "They weren't there with us in England, Erik-!"

"They were with _me_," he renounced forcefully, I frowned in irritation, and my eyes blurred as they watered with anger, "A single day doesn't go by where I don't think about what they did to me - what they did to you-" he stopped, unable to carry on.

Then I gasped as I felt his sudden thought of overwhelming remorse and guilt wash over me as he hung his head in anguish. He thought himself worthless and undeserving to even look at me and I watched in agony, unable to move, overcome by his sudden torrent of feeling, as he clutched at my hand and breathed heavily, trying to calm himself.

The tears rolled down my cheeks as I watched him deteriorate in front of me.

Then he raised his head and looked at me - his blood-shot eyes were begging me to understand - to forgive him- "He killed my mother, Evie." He pleaded; it was all he could manage before he hung his head again.

Tears streaked his face and then my heart tore as I thought of how _selfish_ I had been. He had his own life, he wasn't placed on this Earth to constantly be at my side; he had been through exactly what I had but _more_. Where I had blocked out the memories he had been forced to remember them. How could I not have known? Then it hit me. That was why he didn't want me reading his thoughts when we were younger.

I broke out of the sudden crush of emotion and positioned my hand under his chin and raised his head to face me, I tried to smile, to show him that I forgave him but it cracked as my heart broke again at seeing his tormented tear stained face.

"I forgive you," I avowed and through my tears I managed a warm smile as I held his head in my hands and wiped his cheeks dry with my thumb.

I know it sounds cliché, but as soon as I said this, he seemed to relax, his body loosened; a huge weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello lovely people! I'm quite proud of this chapter, took me a lot of re-writes to get it right!

so ENJOY! (p.s. if any of my translations are wrong I apologise)

* * *

><p>Argentina, Villa Castrol<p>

1962

"So, what's the vibe we're going for?" I asked as we walked, arm in arm, down the grassy hill towards the Villa, which was situated on the idyllic edge of a turquoise lake with the stunning grey, white topped mountains of the Andes reflected on its smooth surface.

"No vibe, you're going to sit in the bar while I search the rest of the hotel for Shaw," Erik said bluntly.

I stopped in my tracks, and whipped my arm from his, "What? You want me to be the _passive_ female and stay in the bar? If anyone goes looking for him it should be me! I'm the one with the training, I'm the one-"

"No," he said his tone softer, "Please," he placed the hand not holding his jacket, on my shoulder and squeezed, "Please - for me? - stay in the bar."

I glowered at him but I could still feel the guilt trickling from his thoughts, all he wanted was for me to be safe, I welcomed the sentiment but I could look after myself.

"Fine," I gave into his pleading expression, "But I'm keeping an open channel," I said tapping the side of my head so he knew what I meant.

* * *

><p>I opened the impressive wooden door and stepped into the Argentinean bar. I slipped down my cream headscarf and slipped up my sunglass, popping them on my head to hold back my hair, as I examined the humid place.<p>

The sun was low in the sky so an orangey glow hung in the air and reflected off the varnished wood of the many empty tables and chairs. The bar was at the fair end, simple with eight leather seated barstools. Three men were there, the barman who had glanced up when I walked in then continued to clean his glass, and two guys sat together at a table in the middle of the empty tavern; they however did not acknowledge my entrance.

My heels clacked on the wooden floor as I walked up to the bar and but I could now feel the thoughts and eyes of the two men on me. I closed my eyes for a moment –

_- Erik was walking down an empty corridor, opening the doors as he went -_

"Una vaso de vino blanco y una cerveza, por favor," _A glass of white wine and a beer, please,_ I asked the barman in Spanish.

He nodded and as he readied my drinks out of boredom I surveyed the walls, but stopped on the one to my right, I had found a picture of three men on a yacht called the _C'est La Vie_. I squinted and then immediately recoiled. Schmidt was the man in the middle, with that familiar sadistic smile that sent an unwelcome shiver up my spine on his face and a glass of champagne raised in a toast - he looked exactly how I remembered and not a day older – and he was flanked by the only other customers in this bar; the two men who sat behind me.

There was the sound of two full glasses on wood beside me as the barman gave me my drinks, "Gracias," I muttered as I stared at the picture, then prying my eyes from it I picked up my wine glass and took a sip. It tasted familiar.

"Mosel . . . Vino alemán?" _German wine? _I asked the barman, but it was not he who answered.

"Yes, why would we have anything else?" came the cheerful German reply from behind me.

I turned around and found that the two men, in the picture with Shaw, were looking at me. Each with the same brand beer as the one I had just purchased, one wore a tailored suit but no jacket, while the other wore what you would usually expect from a holiday goer, a yellow t-shirt and brown trousers.

They were friends of Shaw's, old Nazi acquaintances; if Erik can't find Shaw, they would know where he is. So, smiling eloquently, I opened my mind to Erik – so he could see what I could and hear my thoughts - and turned by back to the barman and rested my elbows on the bar.

I raised my wine glass in agreement; they copied my toast, "Very valid point, gentlemen, there _is_ nothing like a German fermented wine," I said, smiling as I took a sip along with them, "Do you mind if I join you?" I asked, indicating innocently to the seat opposite them.

"Not at all," exclaimed the weedy looking man in the suit as he waved me over.

They stood up, graciously, and held out their hands, I placed the beer on the table and took the suit first, "Abe, tailor," – that explained the suit - then the t-shirt, "Frank, pig farmer," – that explained the t-shirt.

"Evelyn, and I'm not telling," I introduced myself with a mischievous wink and then sat down, crossing my legs, "Do I detect a Düsseldorfian twinge, gentlemen?" I asked curiously, taking another sip of wine.

"Yes, indeed you do," said the t-shirt, "And what would a beautiful Berlin girl like yourself be doing, alone, in a place like this where the old men come to holiday?"

I smiled courteously at his compliment - even though it repulsed me – and nodded in praise of his brilliant regional accent knowledge, but before I could answer:

"What makes you think she's alone?"

Erik had walked into the bar, having been unable to find Shaw and on having seen my thoughts, he had decided to take his chances with these two men as I had.

I took his distraction as an opportunity to read the t-shirt's thoughts.

_Ah, they're a couple. He's German too, no doubt; they're the right age to have parents in the war . . . possibly someone we knew? _

Images of the tailor and himself dressed in SS uniforms, surrounded by other men in the same attire swirled around in his thoughts; confirming that they _were_ Nazi's, then Schmidt's smiling face and the toast on the large yacht.

I exited and saw that Erik was smiling amiably as he walked over to us after hanging up his cream jacket and hat. I resumed my act and smiled affectionately back, sliding his beer to him as he sat down beside me.

I projected what I had just seen in the t-shirts thoughts to Erik as I introduced the two men, "Abe here is a tailor," the weedy man raised his glass in welcome, "And Frank is a pig farmer," Erik raised his glass genially to the two men, no indication at all of what I had just shown him, "They're from Düsseldorf," I said in a tone which suggested surprise.

Erik raised his eyebrows, "Ah, small world," he mimicked my put-on surprise, "My parents came from Düsseldorf," he took a sip of his beer.

"Really? What was their name?" the pig farmer asked, genuinely interested and not at all aware of our hidden agenda.

There was a sudden pause, "Now here's the funny thing," Erik began, frowning in confusion as he moved to the edge of his seat and placed his glass on the table but kept his hand wrapped around it, "You see, my parents didn't have a name, it was taken from them," he looked down at the arm which held his beer glass and we all watched as he twisted it slowly around to reveal the tattooed numbers 407128, "By pig farmers . . . and tailors,"

Immediately the two men stiffened; fear suddenly darkening their thoughts. I looked to Erik, but I felt a surge of hatred obscure his thoughts. The tension in the room heightened and the barman noticed; I heard him decide to reach for his hand gun. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat.

Erik seemed oblivious to our fear as he lifted his glass to his lips and the men followed. I stayed still, watching the two men for any sudden movements. All three of them began to down their drinks, each looking intensely at me and Erik as he slowly drank. I felt the tension rise as Erik's body tightened and his thoughts seeped murder. I looked franticly from him to the men and back again.

_Erik. No._

He ignored my request as he placed down his near empty glass, a little mouthful was left at the bottom; the Germans imitated placing their hardly touched pints back on the table. My heart pace quickened. Then I instinctively reacted as I heard the farmer's thoughts.

In a flash he pulled out a knife and raised it to Erik, but I was too quick. I whipped the knife from his raised hand and suspended it in mid-air, where it hung only for a moment before Erik grabbed it and plunged it into the man's arm, pinning him to the table. In that same moment the farmer yelled in pain, the tailor stood up and the barman cocked his gun, aiming it for Erik's head.

I looked earnestly at Erik's steely expression – willing him to stop - but he wasn't looking at me, his eyes were focused on the tailor. Then I heard a groan from the barman. I looked around. His gun was no longer pointed at Erik; he was fighting against it as Erik moved the metal barrel slowly to a stop, pointed at the tailor.

The man was terrified, I could feel it.

_Erik! _

"No," I breathed, pleading again.

"We were following orders-!" the tailor cried but his plea - as mine had - went unheard, and as the trigger was pulled I flinched in pain as the tailors thoughts went suddenly silent and he fell limply to the floor.

Then before I could stop him, Erik yanked the knife from the pig farmer's arm and pitched it to his left; right at the barman. It hit him squarely in the chest and before he even impacted with the floor, Erik summoned the knife back into his hand.

I tried to stand up but I suddenly felt something immense tug at my midriff, it violently winded me and I was forced back down. I looked down, I was wearing a belt around my waist which had a metal buckle; it was Erik.

"Erik, _please_," I stammered, gasping for air as I fought the excruciating pain issuing from my diaphragm, _You're better than this! . . . Don't stoop to their level, Erik! Please! _I forced the agonizing pain to the back of my mind and tried to stand again, but he pressed me back down,_ Erik!_

I watched him with wide eyes; breathing in shallow, pained, uneven breaths, unable to do anything as he kept me restrained to the chair and examined the knife. It was an SS knife.

"_Blood and honour?"_ Erik muttered, disgusted, as he read what was engraved on its shiny metal edge.

Then he violently jammed the knife back into the farmers arm and I felt as well as heard his cry of agony– my defences were down as I fought against the excruciating pain in my abdomen from the result of being winded.

"_What the hell are you?_" the farmer exclaimed through pained breaths as Erik leant back and casually downed the rest of his drink.

He set the empty glass on the table, "Let's just say I'm Frankenstein's monster," he looked to his right and found the picture of Shaw I had seen earlier. He stood up and walked over to it, "And I'm looking for my creator-" he muttered, glaring at it.

Then in one fluid movement, he twisted around and bid the dead barman's gun into his hand then aimed it at the petrified man he had trapped - with the his own knife - to the wooden table.

Erik hesitated, but his expression was of cast-iron hatred. I suddenly stopped struggling.

_Erik . . . No . . ._

I closed my eyes and flinched as the single shot rang through the air.


	12. Chapter 12

ENJOY!

* * *

><p>I walked across the grassy hill, ignoring the beautiful Argentinean scenery and the burning sun, as my breathing was erratic and my heart fast. I felt shock rise like bile in the form of tears from somewhere deep inside my ribs. I clutched my chest and increased my pace; I wanted to be as far away from this place as possible.<p>

"Evie!" I heard Erik's call from somewhere behind me, "Evie, wait!"

Suddenly I felt the ominous irrational fear of panic mount inside me as my will to hold back the tears broke. I tried to keep walking, to keep moving so it could not root me, but it wasn't working. My body was no longer my own. My breathing quickened and my legs felt like lead as I began to hyperventilate.

"Evie, stop," Erik said, I knew he was close, but my hearing was muffled as the lack of oxygen began to take effect.

I stopped and stooped over slightly, gasping for air as I held my sides and I tried to focus on staying conscious.

"Thank you," his voice sounded far away and he was panting after having run after me, I gasped again but this time because of the tears, "Evie?" his voice was suddenly full of concern.

Then as I felt his hand on my back everything seemed to spiral and my mind throbbed painfully before the world went black.

* * *

><p>Slowly my senses began to return but they were fuzzy and muddled, my head hurt like hell; like I'd just woken up from a really good night out that I would never fully remember. Then I felt that I was lying on something soft and comfy. Then a warm glow replaced the blackness and I realized that my eyes were closed, so I opened them.<p>

I was staring at a cream plastered unfamiliar roof. I blinked in an attempt to clear my head and vision. Steadily, and a little reluctantly, my eyes adjusted to the low light but my headache did nothing to let my brain tell me where I was, why I was here or how I got here.

I tried to sit up but groaned as my head throbbed painfully and forced me back down.

"Evie?" Erik's voice pierced my consciousness like a fog horn.

"_Ow_," I moaned and scrunched my eyes shut against the pain in my head, "Not so loud," I whispered, my voice was hoarse.

I frowned and corrected myself, _had I been on a rough night out?_

Then I felt the mattress depress to my right as he sat down, then I felt a relieving cold hand on my forehead, I relaxed a bit as his hand cooled my hot skin, but then it disappeared.

I frowned again, "_No_, leave it there," I tried to demand but it came out as a rickety croak.

I felt the bed shake as he chuckled, then his cool hand was back on my forehead, "How do you feel?" he asked; he had said it in a whisper but I winced as the pain in my head spiked again.

"Like I've been run over by a brewery wagon," I groaned, then felt the bed shake again as he laughed at my turn of phrase.

I opened my eyes, smiling weakly, and found that he was sat next to me on the bed, peering down at me fondly, but he looked knackered. I made to sit up so he took his hand from my forehead, but I had to press my temples and close my eyes and crease my forehead against the agonizing headache.

"What happened?" I mumbled. He didn't answer. I opened my eyes.

He was looking at me with worry etched on his tired face; but there was something else . . . _guilt . . . shame?_

Then all at once - it was like a bright light bulb flicking on in my aching head - I painfully remembered.

_The Argentinean tavern – the German drinks – the two German men – the SS knife – the gun – running from the bar – then the feeling of shear panic as I blacked out –_

"Ah ," I heaved a quick, awkward, sigh.

There was a tricky hesitation from both of us before we both spoke, "I'm sorry,"

We laughed nervously, and then paused to allow the other to speak; but we did it again, "What for?" - "It's alright,"

I smiled uncomfortably and indicated for him to go first. His eyes thanked me, then his explanations came out in a torrent of everything he had thought to say while I had been unconscious, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost control, you were right - I should have listened - I should have stopped-"

I broke his flow by placing my finger on his lips. He looked at me, suddenly mystified as to why I had stopped him.

"Let's forget about it?" I offered, smiling truly.

It would be better this way. He had changed while we had been apart, that much had become evident. He seemed to listen to his heart rather than his head; it was as if he had become more a slave to his feelings; his feelings of mainly anger and pain, but more importantly feelings that I understood. So how could I be angry at him for leading with his heart? Maybe if we had stayed together things would have panned out differently, but they hadn't. He was the only thing I had in this world, I could not lose him again so I will forgive him, I would always forgive him; but there would always be a voice in the back of my mind asking me what would have been different if I had not.

After a moment, he thought better not to argue; but the pain was still in his eyes as he nodded and relaxed as I let my finger and the matter drop.

The atmosphere suddenly calmed, becoming once again comfortable. I stretched, "How long have I been out?" I asked him through a yawn.

He got up and flung open the curtains, I hissed in protest as the hotel room was flooded with light from a mid-day sun.

"Just over a day," he said casually as he walked into the en suite.

"_What?_" I breathed; then gasped as I winced, as another stab of pain flashed through my mind.

After recovering, I propped myself up with the many pillows of the double bed and looked up as he came out of the bathroom holding a glass of water.

He handed me the water, "Thanks, my head _kills_," I said and gratefully took the glass, "So, where are we?" I asked as I peered around the single bedded small hotel room and began to drink the refreshing cold water.

"Miami," he said cheerfully from his position looking out of the window.

My head swung back to him as my eyes widened in shock and I had to quickly swallow my mouthful of water to prevent myself from spiting it out, "_What?_" I coughed.

"Sunrise Harbor, Miami, Florida," he said simply, turning to face me with his back to the window leaning against its sill.

I looked at him with a flat sarcastic expression, "I'll need a little more than that,"

"This is where Shaw's boat is, it's docked in a secluded spot on the opposite side of the Bay." He glanced to the window.

I blinked back my shock, "And how did you find that out?"

He chuckled nervously then turned back to look out at the sun over the bay, "That picture you found in the bar and along with a little bit of help from your friends at MI6."

I scoffed, astonished by his utter fearlessness, "And how did we get here?"

I couldn't help but feel admiration at his resourcefulness. Somehow he had managed to contact MI6, buy them into locating Shaw _and _transport himself and an unconscious woman across a continent, all in one twenty-four hour period.

"We flew with the coordinates I got from your lot."

This time I wasn't too shocked. In Argentina, before we had left for the Villa, the plane had been fully re-fueled and I had already programmed the jets autopilot, all we had to do was enter a locations coordinates and the plane would fly itself there. I had done this purely out of laziness; I couldn't be bothered to set it up when we got back.

I raised my eyebrows and reclined back having run out of questions, "I'm impressed," I congratulated him.

He turned back to me and smiled in thanks, "I do try,"

I chuckled and leant over to place my glass on the bedside cabinet but I cried out and the glass smashed in my hand as a new, more intense, jagged shot of pain blazed through my consciousness.

Erik was at my side in an instant, and he gently helped me back into a sitting position. I winced and pressed two fingers to my temple to try and ease the pain

"Do you usually get headaches after having an attack?" he said quietly as he placed his hand on my forehead again, checking my temperature.

"No," I grimaced, "I don't usually pass out either." I looked up at him with a perplexed frown as he gave me the exact same, I smiled; it was like looking into a mirror.

"Get some rest," he suggested with a concerned smile as he stood up, "I'll wake you up for dinner; I know how cranky you can get when you've not eaten."

He smiled mischievously and ducked as I proved his point by throwing a pillow at his back.

* * *

><p>My headache just about disappeared in my sleep, so I felt lively and wide awake when Erik woke me up at five.<p>

"Where's the food?" I asked as I came out of the en suite rubbing my hair dry and dressed in a silk dressing gown after having a lovely warm shower.

He laughed from his seat by the window where he was gazing out and causing his coin to revolve in between his fingers as I could feel his thoughts floating around absentmindedly. He pointed to the table at the table at end of the bed.

But it was not the food I saw first, there were two wetsuits draped over the bed. I threw the wet towel over the chair opposite his and walked over to them, picked up one of the black wetsuits up and held it up against my body to see if it would fit.

"Erik, what are these for?" I asked frowning, a little apprehensive.

He turned to face me with a roguish smile on his face, "You don't mind going for a little swim do you?"

* * *

><p>Feel free to review! I take every suggestion into account, so if there are any questions I'll do my best to answer them, if not that means they will be answered in the up and coming chapters! Ta muchly!<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

"Look at me, Erik," I demanded softly from my seat beside him in the hire car.

We had been sat on the dock, waiting for the sun to set but all the while Erik had been silent, he had not said a word ever since we checked out of the hotel, not even during the short journey down here and now he had been staring at the huge boat which sat alone in the distance with that coin revolving in between his fingers. I could feel his thoughts and anxiety floating around in the tight space of the car, they had pulled at my self-control, niggled at my resolve and after an hour I couldn't bare it any longer. He turned to face me as if I had just woken him from a dream.

"What?" he asked, half here and half somewhere else.

"What's bothering you?" I asked but he hesitated in answering me, looking back at Shaw's boat. I leant over and he looked down as I placed my hand on the one fingering the coin, "Erik? If you don't tell me I can always get it another way?" I blackmailed him teasingly, but he wasn't in the mood to play with me but he answered me all the same.

"I don't know what will happen when I get on that boat," he mused through gritted teeth, still looking at the yacht's silhouette which was rapidly fading with the light. He was talking about his anger and I could already hear the frustration in his voice. He turned to me, a tortured look in his soft blue-grey eyes, "When I see him, I don't know if I'll be able to control my anger," his voice cracked and he hung his head and the coin dropped to the car's floor, "I can't . . ."

"I'll be there," I said comfortingly as a mother would to her frightened child, smiling warmly and gently cupping his jaw.

I summoned the coin so that it hovered in the neutral space between us and he smiled uncertainly.

* * *

><p>"Herr Doctor," I heard Erik's rumbling voice sound in greeting from the opposite side of the yacht and I took this as my entrance.<p>

I stepped around the corner to find Shaw sat casually dressed in white, a blonde woman in a revealing white bikini and a Spanish looking man dressed in a silver suit both suddenly stood wary of the man in a black wetsuit who had just stepped in, interrupting their little party.

"No," Shaw softly ordered his henchman and woman with a joyous smile as he stood up, but they didn't drop their defenses, in fact the blonde's skin turned to sparkling diamond and I felt her thought pattern suddenly disappear, "_Little_ Erik Lensherr," Shaw opened his arms in welcome and took a step closer to Erik as he looked around at his companions, but upon doing so his range of vision included finding me, "Ah and my tiny Evelyn,"

I was connected to Erik, tapped into his emotions and thoughts, and I suddenly felt something deep inside him ignite.

_Calm Erik, he can't hurt us . . . don't do anything . . ._

I gave Shaw a quick contemptuous smile.

_Why can't I? He's standing right there- _came Erik's hate filled reply.

_Erik . . . you don't know what the other two will do, not yet, just wait-_

"Playing happy families now are we, I see?" Shaw mocked, looking amusedly from me to Erik and back again I felt delight flowing from his gleeful smile.

_Screw this-_

_Erik, No!_

Suddenly Erik threw his knife towards Shaw, but the diamond blonde - who was stood beside Shaw - immediately, grabbed it, stopping it inches from it impacting with his chest. She was a telepath, I had felt her inside my head just before Erik had thrown the knife and I had lost contact with him for only a millisecond as I blocked her off from my thoughts. In my moment of lost control Erik had taken the decision to strike but she had seen what he was about to do.

But in the same moment, Erik yelled in pain and dropped to the floor clutching the sides of his face and I saw and felt that he was suddenly reliving all of the torturous experiences he had suffered while under Shaw's control.

"No!" I cried out and rushed to Erik's side, but I had hardly moved an inch when I too was rooted to the spot as the same agonizing memories were forced into my mind.

"Now, now, Emma, is that any way to treat our guests?" I heard Shaw's patronizing command as if he had spoken them at a distance and at once the horrifying images I thought I had forgotten, that had so brutally come rushing to the forefront of my mind, suddenly stopped.

My mind was a blur, I couldn't differentiate between the thoughts that were not my own as they whizzed untethered in and out of my mind, I couldn't think straight as the aftershock of the forgotten memories resonated through my consciousness. I was kneeling on the floor, unable to move against the crushing torment.

But Erik took no time to recover, as his anger overloaded his feelings and he lunged for Shaw, but the telepathic blonde hit him with such a kick that he fell over the side of the boat and into the freezing water.

I found myself unable do anything, my mind and body were overwhelmed by the amount of painful memories I had just been forced to experience again.

So the next thing I knew, I felt Shaw grab the front of my wetsuit and, with inhuman strength, he pulled me up into a standing position and I did nothing to stop him. He was looking at me with sorrowful eyes and just as he was about to say something, a flood of bright lights beamed out from somewhere behind me and his attention was momentarily directed there instead.

"Ah, _finally _the party's arrived," a smile widened his features and he glanced towards the Spaniard who I could not see, "Riptide?"

I didn't know what was going on, my head was buzzing, I was disoriented, and I was in no fit state to go delving into Shaw's thoughts to find out what was happening.

But then the crushing well of anguished emotions suddenly disappeared, as if someone had quickly swept them all up and discarded them out of my mind, my head was immediately clear again.

I instantly grabbed the wrist of Shaw's hand – the one that was holding me up - and sent a pulse of electricity up his arm, I knew it would not do any lasting damage, but the surprise caused him to let me go.

I twisted away from his hands and turned around to see two beams of lights emitting from a large navy coastguard vessel and the Spaniard had disappeared; all that could be seen was a small tornado flitting across the water toward the three tiny rafts coming towards us.

I stepped forwards charging my hands.

"Ah, ah, ah, not so fast Evelyn," Shaw suddenly stopped me by placing his palm against my chest and in the instant he touched me the charge in my hands burningly rushed up my arms, into my chest and out of my body via his hand.

But he didn't stop there.

Suddenly my whole body stiffened and felt static, my skin was prickling painfully as the flaming hot current was being sucked out of every pore in my body, as though millions of tiny needles had pierced my skin and directed the energy flooding towards the center of my body and congregated it to the small scorching area on my chest where Shaw's hand was extracting it through my wetsuit which was gradually burning creating a palm sized hole in the rubber on a level with my collarbones.

I couldn't breathe as the life was being slowly sucked out of me. I gasped for air but all my energy was being removed from every muscle before they had chance to respond, my lungs wouldn't work. I couldn't breathe.

I was dying.

But Shaw let me go. I feel to the floor, coughing and gasping as fresh air poured into my lungs and I watched in my weakened state as Shaw grabbed hold of the diamond woman's hand and whisked her inside the yacht. In this short time I had regained myself but my attention was drawn to movement above me.

I looked up as the yacht's gigantic anchor - trailing its heavy long chain behind it - rose in to the air from the back of the boat.

I knew instantly that Erik had survived being thrown over the side of the boat and now he was using its very own anchor to destroy it.

I watched it fall in slow motion, the surplus of water it was carrying, dropping with it in a torrent over the yacht. I would not have time to jump into the water. With the little energy I had left, I tensed for impact as the anchor came crashing down accompanied by an ominous, frightening sound of groaning steel. The air exposed into a world of splintered wood and shrapnel, I felt myself thrown through the air and I could not tell which way was up until I hit the dark icy water.

* * *

><p>You know they're right about 13 being an unlucky number, this chapter was such a <em>bitch<em> to write! (sorry, excuse my french) haha, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it! *overload on the sarcasm* please review, I don't even care if they're bad - for this one especially - I feel like I'm Frankenstein and this is my monster - :o you see what's its done! It's forced me to think about my done and dusted english exam! grrrrrr . . . :D


	14. Chapter 14

Thank you for all your loverly reviews! they mean a lot!

* * *

><p>My mind was suspended in an endless abyss.<p>

No light, no sound, no feeling.

Only an infinite and silent void.

Softness.

Weightlessness.

The physical world had ceased to exist. It was as if my body had released me.

As if I was pure sentience now, a fleshless consciousness suspended in the emptiness of a vast universe.

I peered into the void, searching for any points of reference. I found nothing.

Total darkness. Total silence . . . Total Peace.

There was not even the pull of gravity to tell me which way was up.

My body was gone.

_This must be death._

Time seemed to be telescoping . . . stretching and compressing as if it had no bearing in this place. I lost all track of how much time had passed.

_Ten seconds? Ten minutes? Ten days?_

Suddenly, however, like distant fiery explosions in far-off galaxies, memories began to materialize, billowing towards me, like shock waves in the vast nothingness.

A murky green light . . . thunder. . .

Then, all at once, they came back. The images tore through me, garish and agonizing.

A bell tolled, loud and reverberating, shuddering through the darkness towards me, growing louder and louder, as if urging my mind to follow.

* * *

><p>I was stood quiet alone in the middle of a large patch of lush green grass surrounded by equally spaced uniform trees.<p>

I looked down at my bare feet and curled my toes into the soft blades of spongy grass. The ground felt elastic beneath my feet, bouncy and velvety.

I held my hand up to my forehead and shielded my eyes from the bright, orange sun as I scanned the park - _again - _and counted the bell chimes; one, two, three.

He was an hour late.

With a huff I dropped back down onto the picnic blanket, lay back, closed my eyes and with my arms spread out I stroked the soft blades either side of the tartan blanket. The sun was hot. The wine would be getting warm and the cheese soft.

_He'll be here, he said he'd be here . . . _I told myself over and over again.

Then, through my closed lids, darkness replaced the suns orangey glow. I snapped my eyes open.

Erik, the man I had been waiting for, was standing above me shielding the sun, his grinning, cleanly shaven face upside down from my laid out position on the blanket.

"_You're _late," I said charringly, but it wasn't apologetic feelings I was receiving from him, it was humor.

A little irritated, I sat up, then stood up and while I angrily brushed my skirt down I looked him critically up and down.

He was wearing a white t-shirt and beige trousers, his jacket was slung over his left shoulder, he was sporting a nice pair of sunglasses and a cream hat was sat on his head covering his reddy-brown hair.

"Forgive me?" he pleaded playfully, extending his arms wide in submission.

I did not answer; I just continued to glare menacingly at him. He shrugged, placed his jacket over the wicker picnic basket, took off his hat and sunglasses and moved to sit down; but he never made it.

I slipped my arms under his and around his back and squeezed him into a tight hug. He chuckled and wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me against him.

Cradled in his arms, I felt the comforting reassurance that everything was alright, that for this one afternoon I could forget about everything and, even if it was _just_ for one afternoon, it would be just me and him again; I would not let anything interrupt.

I smiled and moving onto the tip of my toes, I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I had missed him, and I was about to voice my feeling, but, ironically, as if he had read my mind, he got there first.

"I've missed you," he mewed against my neck.

I pulled away and looked up, "Ditto," I said, smirking as I tried not to laugh at the irony.

He leant forwards and placed a kiss on my forehead, then holding me at arm's length he affectionately surveyed my eighteen year old appearance.

"Now," he said, smiling and patting my shoulder as he released me, "It's too hot, let's eat before the wine evaporates!"

* * *

><p><em>Light!<em>

The endless void in which I hovered was suddenly filled by a blinding white light. Blades of the white-hot rays streamed across the blackness, burning into my mind.

The light was everywhere.

And suddenly, within the radiant cloud before me, a beautiful silhouette appeared.

It was a face, blurry and indistinct . . . two bright blue eyes were staring at me across the void.

Then, along with the eyes, the blinding light suddenly disappeared.

The blackness returned, but I could now hear distant whispers echoing across the light-years of emptiness. Muffled voices . . .

No?

One voice, smooth, but calling unintelligible words, urging me forwards.

Then it happened.

Without warning my whole universe was ripped in two. An enormous chasm opened in the darkness; space itself had ruptured. A bright mist poured through the opening, then what felt like invisible hands were grabbing me, trying to wrench me from this world.

_No!_

I tried to fight them off, but I had no arms.

_No! Please!_

I wanted to stay in this peaceful, secure world.

But it was too late; they had gotten through, a voice sounded clearly through the mist, pain and darkness.

_Please don't fight it, please . . . you'll die._

Pain tore through my chest as the powerful hands continued to pry and pull me through the chasm.

_I already am dead! Leave me alone!_

After a pause, there was one last unbearable heave.

I was suddenly on my back on a flat, cold surface and my lungs were burning, blazing, feeling like they were on fire, it felt like they were filled with smoldering sand.

_I can't breathe!_

Something was pressing down painfully hard on my chest, over and over again; I was spewing out the warmth.

_I want to go back!_

I felt like a child being dragged from the womb.

I was convulsing, coughing up the warm liquid. I felt pain in my chest. Excruciating pain. My throat was on fire. Someone was talking, trying to whisper but it was deafening.

_It's alright, Evie, calm your mind . . ._

My vision was blurred all I could see were dampened shapes. My arms and legs - my whole body felt numb.

My chest was heavier now, pressure, burning.

_I can't breathe!_

I was coughing up liquid and then, as my lungs reached a painful barrier, an overwhelming gag reflex overpowered me and I gasped inwards. Cold, sharp, air slashed piercingly into my lungs and my eyes snapped open.

* * *

><p>Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D<p> 


	15. Chapter 15

Thanks for the much loved reviews guys!

Anywho, Hello! I suppose you're thinking _oh my god! has christmas come early?_ _two uploads in one day! wow, she's realy spoiling us!_

But alas my friends, two updates means I will not be uploading tomorow :( I have exams :'( But do not fret! there will be more chapters on the way after that! :D yay!

This chapter's a bit different because . . . GUESS WHO HAS ARRIVED! whoo! so if yous likes it tell me what you think :D

* * *

><p>Erik watched in mute despair, he did not know if he was shaking with the shock from his near death experience in the freezing water or from the fact that he was looking down at the sallow, lifeless form of the only person he ever cared about since he lost his parents. He could not lose her, not now, not when they had just been reunited<p>

Erik gripped the ships cold, metal railing for support, and watched as the man who had just saved his life, Charles Xavier, kneel over Evie's wet, limp body and begin to revive her in an attempt to save her as well.

"Come on," Charles muttered earnestly as he positioned his ear over her mouth, and pressed two fingers to his temple as he searched for _any_ sign of life. He grimaced furiously upon not feeling anything then immediately began the compressions on her heart.

_One, two, three, four, five,_

"Come on Evie, stay with me," he said softly before he gave her mouth to mouth.

He pressed his fingers to his temple and placed his ear over her mouth again. Nothing, no shallow breaths or heart beats but something did suddenly flicker in her mind, as if a weak faulty light had suddenly been switched on in a darkened room and was now wavering on and off again, threatening to turn off forever.

"Yes," Charles breathed a small sigh of mild relief as her mind began to come back, but her physical signs were still not responding and her body was drained – literary – from her encounter with Shaw; but Charles continued the compressions.

_One, two, three, four, five,_

He pressed his fingers to his temples, searched – still the feeble flickering - then mouth-to-mouth.

_One, two, three, four, five,_

Fingers to temples-

Then he heard it.

_No . . . No, please . . ._

She was thinking. It was faint and he had heard it in the deepest part of her conscious mind, but she had thought and he had heard.

He began the compressions again, but more ardently this time as his heart was beating with fresh adrenaline at the prospect of bringing her back to life. But she was reluctant, she was fighting him.

_Please don't fight it, please . . . you'll die._

"One, two, three, four, five," he muttered aloud; his fervour to safe her now becoming verbal.

_I already am dead,_

He hesitated, stunned by her weak but clear response, he was hovering over her water soaked and deathly pale face about to breathe vital air into her lungs again, but she had spoken to him, she could hear him; and he did not need to press his fingers to his temples in concentration to hear her. But she was still not breathing and her heart was still not beating. He shook the shock away and breathed one last crucial breath into her.

Charles gasped as his mind was suddenly overwhelmed by her sudden awakening of thoughts and feelings. He felt her agony, the terrifying feeling of hot, heavy, unusable lungs, the irrefutable fear of death, isolation, and an eternity alone in the silent blackness, unable to feel, hear or see; just exist on a silent plane.

_It's alright, please Evie, calm your mind, it's alright-_

Then swallowing down the overwhelming emotion and regaining control, Charles continued to revive her.

"One, two, three, four, five," he chanted frantically, almost willing her back to life with his voice as her thoughts ebbed weakly in and out of his.

Erik collapsed to the floor beside them and locked eyes with Charles, a connection was made and what Charles saw there, he would never forget. He witnessed in Erik's eyes, grief of a kind so raw and coarse, hope disappeared and the world shrunk in an instant as his unrefined despair fully engulfed them both.

The no doubt powerful, but hate filled man, who up until a moment ago thought he could move a submarine, was suddenly reduced to a guilt punctured wreck, and Charles could no longer feel the metal bender's anger as hatred for Shaw but for himself. Charles placed an encouraging hand on Erik's shoulder and did his best to give him a consoling smile. Then, tearing his sorrowful eyes away from the broken man, Charles continued to revive the only person in the world who could ever had a chance of restoring Erik to his former self.

At the back of Charles' mind he had begun to lose hope as he battled with Erik's flood of emotion and as he continually, to no avail, compressed Evie's heart and breathed air into her fluid filled lungs.

But then, as if she heard and felt their despair, her body began to convulse under his hands to rid her lungs of the salty liquid that could so easily kill her. But her body was weak so Charles continued to keep her heart beating.

Then she began to violently cough, as the liquid was banished from her lungs. Charles instantly stopped massaging her heart and Erik's expression changed to one of surprised shock.

She gasped inwards and her eyes snapped opened, but before Charles saw the fear she held so tightly in them, he noticed that they were a striking shade of green, with sparking, almost unnoticeable, bright bands of electric blue running like small rivers through a sea emerald.


	16. Chapter 16

Hey, hey! This is a nice little short one for you all :) ENJOY!

* * *

><p>When I opened my eyes all pain was gone, but I felt weak; incredibly weak. My eyes didn't have the energy to focus so all I could see was a blinding, head spinning white light. It was a stark contrast to the darkness of moments ago . . . wait, was this heaven?<p>

_Oh God . . . – sorry, I mean – Oh no, I'm actually dead . . ._

Then the bizarre happened, I felt someone chuckle, _inside my head._

_God? _I asked the chuckler hesitantly as it felt a little absurd to be asking this question, but I was dead; right, so who else could it be?

_No, Miss Lensherr,_ the voice laughed, but not in a mean way, it was a gentle, albeit amused snigger, and I noticed that it was male, comfortingly smooth and British,_ I'm afraid I am not God, my name is Charles Xavier and you are very much alive._

Surprisingly, as I took his words in, I felt myself frown; I then realized that I had a body as pins and needles were painfully prickling my skin, my eyes joined in and began to ache as they adjusted to the light and I found that two dark, blurred silhouettes were leant over me, partially obscuring the light which I now realized was a huge fog light, next thing I knew the pins and needles had all but disappeared and I was lying on a cold, wet and uncomfortably hard, slightly vibrating surface. All this sensory information was telling me that Charles Xavier-

_Just Charles, _he corrected cheerfully,

_- sorry, _All this sensory information was telling me that_ Charles_ was right; I was, in fact, alive.

My vision had not fully focused but I could feel Erik's signature frantic thought pattern and there was another, but instead of the uneasy pattern of Erik's this one was calm, serene almost; I did not recognize it but it felt familiar; that must be Charles-

_Spot on, _he confirmed my thought as if we were old friends talking in a bar after years apart and I had just remembered his name.

_Alright, _My thought was laced with amusement; _I'm still a bit out of it; instead of you pushing me, could you let me catch up at my own pace? _I asked, entertained by his eagerness.

_Sorry, _he replied, surprised, obviously not realizing how confusing it was having a stranger inside my still spinning head as I tried to piece together what had happened, _I'll leave,_

But him leaving hadn't been his brightest idea; as soon as he left, the anchor holding me up suddenly dropped and I felt myself falling back into unconsciousness.

I blinked but my vision did not clear, instead everything was darkening and my chest felt heavy as if someone had placed a huge rock on my ribs, my head felt heavy like my eyes wanted to roll back and stay back. I felt my heart take rapid thumping beats under the pressure as I panicked. No, I didn't want to go back, I didn't want to be alone in the suffocating darkness. I tried to fight it but that just made the fear worse-

_Don't fight it,_ I suddenly heard Charles' calm voice float through the coming darkness, _you'll be fine, I'll be here, calm your mind . . ._

I hesitated only for a moment before realizing that I trusted this man; completely. I relaxed and let go, and all at once the world became blackness again, but I was not alone this time, there was a small pinprick of light with me on the brink of that dark chasm, holding me safely, protectively away from the edge.

* * *

><p>Don't hesitate to review! thanks!<p>

p.s summerinlove, i totally agree, james mcavoy = yummy :D


	17. Chapter 17

Hello! Thanks for the reviews! and i'm sorry the last chapter was rather short :( I'm a busy woman! exams to finish, tennis to watch, piano to learn (don't get the wrong impression, i'm not officially learning to play the piano, i've stupidly decided to teach myself and it's taking up more of my time than I thought . . .) so with that in mind I'm not sure when the next chapter shall be up . . . but my last exam is on monday so after that I can use that free time to write! YAY! I will try to write when I can because i'm loving this story as much as all of you are :D

So, here we have it, ENJOY!

* * *

><p>Erik stared down at the unconscious form of his life long companion from where she lay, wrapped tightly between the white bed sheets and the thin mattress, in the otherwise empty medical bay of the small government ship.<p>

He had lost himself once again to anger, he knew it would happen - _she_ knew it would happen - even before they began. Sitting, waiting in the car on the dock she had told him that she was there for him and she had been, he had felt her inside his head, a constant reassurance that whatever happened she would be there. But as soon as he had laid eyes on Shaw something inside him snapped, it was exactly the same overpowering feeling he had experienced in the Argentinean bar, but magnified tenfold.

_Calm Erik, he can't hurt us . . . don't do anything . . ._

_Why can't I? He's standing right there!_

_Erik . . . you don't know what the other two will do, not yet, just wait-_

"_Playing happy families now are we, I see?" Shaw had mocked, gleefully._

_Screw this-_

_Erik, No!_

Erik was sat loyally beside her now, holding her warm hand in both of his, slowly and instinctively rubbing his thumb in a comforting circle over the soft skin on the back of her hand. She was sleeping and the colour had returned to her cheeks, nevertheless he couldn't help but see her cold, grey, lifeless pallor from before when he and Charles had dragged her limp body from the depths of that dark, freezing water.

Charles had told him what had happened, what Shaw had done to her and that she had been on the deck of the yacht, barely even alive then, when Erik had destroyed it with the anchor. She had been thrown into the water along with the debris from the yacht and it wasn't until Erik himself had nearly drowned and not until Charles tried to save him by telling him that Evie was drowning did he let the submarine go.

He despised himself more and more with every passing second. He had promised to keep her safe and he had failed in that promise more than just once. Yes, she had forgiven him for everything, but he did not deserve it, not now he had almost killed her.

When he left her all those years ago he had left her safe in the knowledge that she was protected, secure and had a brilliant future ahead of her, but most importantly, he knew that she was alive and well. But now, if she had died, alone in that water or here on this boat, Erik would not have been able to forgive himself. It was all his fault.

The Doctor had told him that she would make a full recovery, she just needed to rest and recuperate after the life draining ordeal, and Charles had confirmed this, saying that he was with her, inside her mind. Charles was a telepath, much like Evie, and it calmed Erik to know that the man who had saved both their lives was with her now, keeping her afloat. But he could not shake the feeling of helplessness and guilt.

Suddenly Erik saw movement in the corner of his eye from the door across from Evie's bed. He reluctantly looked up and found Charles stood in the doorway, leant against it with his arms crossed, he had changed into dry clothes but his hair was still revelling in the salty water of the bay. Erik hadn't bothered to change out of his wet suit; he was sat with a tin foil sheet wrapped around a thick blanket, so he was warm enough.

"She'll be alright, Erik," Charles was smiling reassuringly, and then continued to reassure him as he walked towards them, "She's strong, she's a fighter; I wouldn't worry."

Charles stopped on the opposite side of the bed and glanced down at Evie with a smile and his hands in his pockets. Erik knew that what Charles had said was correct, but as he looked back at her sleeping face he saw that she would always be that benevolent, frail, strawberry blonde haired girl who had, all those years ago, given him her last piece of chocolate out of compassion.

"What do you see?" Erik asked inquisitively, looking up at Charles, who, not fully understanding the question, took his eyes from Evie and gave Erik an inquiring look, "You're with her, inside her head," Erik mused, impressed, as he looked back to Evie, "What do you see?"

Charles frowned, considering the best way to describe what it was like to be inside someone's head, "Darkness," he began slowly, then he perched himself on the bed next to Evelyn's, "Actually it's more a _feeling_, the darkness personifies a kind of empty space, but it isn't empty as such, because she's there and I'm there." he pondered; he had never had to explain the feeling before.

There was a pause as Erik took in what Charles had said, "I'm just glad she isn't alone," he said quietly with a despondent expression.

Charles could feel the guilt rolling in waves off of Erik and he needed rest, Charles could see it in his dejected eyes and in the way he sat, slouched over, with an elbow on her bed for support, but Charles knew that Erik wouldn't leave her side until she woke up and that wouldn't be for another good couple of hours.

"You need some rest, my friend," Charles said, standing up and feigning a yawn as he placed two fingers to his left temple and transferred a receptive and slightly sleepy atmosphere in the hope that Erik would become open enough to his suggestion. After a moment's consideration, Erik tore his eyes from the sleeping Evelyn and looked up with a hesitant frown.

"I'll stay with her, go and get some rest," Charles answered Erik's look with an understanding smile, "I'll wake you when she comes round."

Erik nodded his thanks and then, as he gently and unwillingly released his hand from hers; he gave her one last affectionate frown before standing up and slowly walking to the door, where he stopped, turned around and upon seeing that Charles was now sat in his vacated seat beside Evie's bed, nodded again and left to have the much needed sleep he so suddenly knew he wanted.

* * *

><p>as always, reviews are more than welcome :D<p>

p.s. i'm loving the appreciation for mr mcavoy, or is it mr. tumnus? ;)


	18. Chapter 18

OH MY GOD GUYS I'M SOOOOO SORRY! so much has happened this past month i can not begin to explain! first my computer had the most almightly crash that it erased all the chapters i had writen! poof, vanished! then I went on holiday for two weeks so obviously couldn't write then and i've had family commitments these past two weeks so yeah i shall repeat again that my computer, family and I are sorry and I promice we shall not let me take this long again _ever_ to upload!

* * *

><p>"Hey," I heard Charles' soft greeting as my eyes peeled open after a very, very good sleep; probably the best one I had had in quite some time.<p>

I opened my eyes fully and found him sitting on the left side of my bed; this was the first time I had seen him and what I saw pleasantly surprised me.

Charles was young, probably no older than my twenty eight years; he had a nice mop of chocolate hair, piercing, but at the same time, gentle blue eyes and a kind heart-warming smile. The man who had been inside my head was actually as nice to look at as was the comforting reassurance with which he had parted on me whilst being inside my mind.

"Hey," I greeted back a little hoarsely as I stretched out the stiffness and sat up. The greeting felt weird seeing as we hadn't really parted because he had been inside my head as I had slept. We had not interacted as such – you know, spoken - he was there as a presence; think of when you're sat alone on a park bench and someone, a stranger, decides to sit next to you, you know they're there but you don't speak.

"How long have I been out?" I asked him as I rubbed my eyes; then I frowned having had that sudden, strange feeling of déjà vu.

"Oh, not long, about five hours?" he mused as he too stretched and sat up straighter in his chair, "Which is perfect timing actually; we're just coming into port," he added, and then I watched as he placed two fingers to his temple, closed his eyes and-

_Erik? Evelyn's awake-_

I jumped and Charles' eyes snapped open in surprise, as we both realized that I could hear him as clear as if he had said it out loud. I was shocked, as soon as he had begun to broadcast the message I was inside Erik's head as well; it was as if Charles was the antenna to my un-tuned radio. I could feel Erik wake and then the fresh panic as he began to understand Charles' message; he thought Charles' pause was a signal of something else.

Charles kept his fingers to his temple but his eyes stayed on me, gazing at me in mute astonishment.

_- don't worry she's perfectly fine, she wants to see you._ He finished and we just managed to see Erik leap out of his small bunk before Charles exited his mind.

"How did you . . . ?" Charles slowly smiling as he let his hand drop to his lap, "This is amazing," he laughed, I cocked my head in question so he shuffled to the edge of his seat, leaning forwards slightly, "I sent that straight to Erik, you shouldn't have been able to hear it,"

"Well, I _can_ hear thoughts," I mused unsurely after a moment, equally as bewildered as he was.

I had gathered that Charles was a telepath, but I had never come across _another_ telepath before now, so I didn't quite know how these things worked.

"This is a first for me too," Charles said, but his eyes immediately widened in embarrassment and he quickly looked anywhere but at me. I smiled, amused. He had unintentionally heard my thought and his brain had not worked fast enough to differentiate between the thought and my spoken voice.

"Sorry-" he began his apology.

"Don't worry about it," I said with a forgiving smile, "It's easily done," _This is going to take some getting used to; for both of us._

_Tell me about it, _Charles smirked, holding in a laugh as he answered my thought with another thought.

I laughed but it quickly dwindled out as our eyes locked; electric blue with deep green. He was gazing at me with only the hint of laughter now on his soft features, but he was frowning slightly; a little crease was appearing in the smooth area just above his nose and between his eyebrows. He was making a study of me, staring at me with a kind of elusive perplexity, as an expert painter would do with a shy model; but I, the far from shy model stared back just as intensely and the only thought I had was how beautiful his eyes were.

I couldn't help it, and I'm sure you couldn't have because I had never seen anything like them, they were blue, but not like Erik's whose had a tropical green-blue hue, instead they were a delicate shade of baby blue, somewhere between grey and sky blue with little speckles of black and deeper blues dotted through them like the paint splatter from a paintbrush. I felt I could stare at them all day and still not be able to find all of the different, beautiful little specks of blue; and believe me I could have stared into them all day if Erik hadn't interrupted.

There was a clatter and the sound of irritated voices in the hallway outside and we were forced to break, and with a small pang of reluctance, we looked up at the door just in time to see it swing open as Erik, not bothering with the handle, smashed it open and rushed into the room.

I didn't have to hear his thoughts to see that he hadn't thought of what he would do once he got here because he stood still, breathing heavily after his run, and looked around a little awkwardly, with his anxiety and that ever constant guilt permeating the air.

I slipped out of bed before either of them could protest I walked over to him and engulfed him in a huge bear hug of forgiveness.

* * *

><p>Ta Haley Tran for the spelling mistake notice :D here's a bear hug just for you :3<p> 


	19. Chapter 19

Oh good lordy... FINALLY here we have it. I have no excuse for the months absence apart from moving in to university... ENJOY!

* * *

><p>Charles was stood on the main deck of the ship, with his forearms resting on the metal railings. He looked out at the large line of land panning out on either side of him. It was early morning, the sun was just peeking over the horizon in front of him. He had just been informed that they would make port in less than half an hour, so he thought he would get some fresh air to wake himself up after not having slept all night.<p>

After the events of the past six hours, his mind and body were exhausted. First he had dived into the freezing waters of the Atlantic to save a man he had never even met before. Then, after having to persuade the man from drowning himself, together they had saved his unconscious companion from sinking to her death, _and then_ they had had to keep themselves as well as her unconscious body afloat while a rescue boat was lowered from the navy coastguard ship.

He let go of the railing and stretched his arms out as he yawned, hoping that the journey to the CIA secure base would be a long one so he could grab a quick recuperative nap in the car on the way there -

"It was you, wasn't it?"

Charles jumped in surprise as Evelyn's quiet and inquisitive question banished away the silence. He quickly collected himself and turned to his left and found her standing next to him with a thick grey blanket wrapped tightly around her small frame. She was looking out towards the land he had just been watching. He wondered how long she had been stood there and why he hadn't noticed.

She took his hesitation as a question so looked at him and made her question clearer, "It was you who erased those memories of my past from my mind on Shaw's ship, wasn't it?"

Charles blinked, "Yes," he answered simply with a quick apologetic smile before he turned away from her and back out to the land, once again resting his arms on the railings. "You were in distress; I had to help." He explained after a couple of minute's silence, in which he had given into her thoughts of curiosity.

He turned to her and found her smiling gratefully at him as if he were her hero.

Embarrassed, he quickly tried to dispel this theory, "Shaw would have killed you if you hadn't done something." He said quickly, "You saved yourself, I just helped; nothing more."

This only caused Evelyn's smile to widen, "Don't be modest, Charles." She chuckled warmly before she too came to rest her forearms on the railings next to him, "Shaw would have killed me if _you _hadn't done something." She softly corrected him, as she scanned the landscape for a long moment before continuing, "You've saved my life, Charles - _twice_ – and you've saved Erik's," she came to face him with a grateful smile painted on her full lips, "And for _that,_ I will be forever grateful." She added avidly.

Charles stared at her appreciative smile and frowned slightly. Then, commending her love for Erik and giving in, he smiled doubtfully and rolled his eyes, "Alright, so long as you don't think you have to repay me by sticking to me like glue until I fall into some sort of peril so you can save me, I won't have that."

Evelyn raised her eyebrows disapprovingly, "Now you know I can't promise that." She stated, almost amused, "You saved my life twice and Erik's once, so that's three counts of your life I have to save before we're even." She said in a teasingly stern tone, "So, expect me to stick to you like glue-" She poked his arm playfully as she said each word but she suddenly stopped and looked past his smirking expression, and turned her gaze instead to something on the right side of him.

Charles followed and found Raven walking towards them. He stood up straight and smiled cordially as she came closer.

"I have just been informed, by a _lovely_ pair of sailors that we will be docking in about ten minutes." The young blonde told them with a mischievous smile, before Charles drew her into a hug and then positioned himself beside her with his arm around her shoulders.

"Raven this is Evelyn Lensherr," Charles introduced with a modest smile, looking from Raven to Evelyn, "And Evelyn this is Raven; my younger sister."

Evelyn leant forward and with a surprised frown directed at Charles, she gladly shook Raven's hand, "Sister?" she asked with curved raised eyebrows.

"Not by birth," Raven corrected politely, "He took me in when I was little, we grew up together." She smiled warmly.

"Raven is a mutant too," Charles stated proudly. Then, retracting his arm from around Raven's shoulders and placing his hands into his trouser pockets, with a smile he prompted her to show Evelyn what she could do.

Charles watched with amused delight as Evelyn's intrigued expression turned to shock and then to amazement as the pretty blonde girl beside him turned into the pretty auburn haired girl in front of him, grey towel and all.

Evelyn laughed in astonishment, "You're a shape-shifter?" she asked with a bewildered tone.

"Yep," Raven said, "I can also replicate voices." She added, mimicking Evelyn's soft voice causing its owner to jump and laugh again, unable to say anything in return as she was speechless.

Charles beamed with delight as he turned to Evelyn, "Why don't you show Raven what you can do, Evelyn?"

"I'll try! But I doubt anything that I do will be as impressive as what you've just done." She laughed uncertainly.

Charles watched, hands still in pockets, as she looked around the deck and found a foot long metal pipe. She then picked it up and shrugged off the grey blanket as she walked back to them.

She then looked at Raven's smiling face, "Think of something," she told her with a kind smile, "A type of flower or a piece of fruit?" she suggested before Charles suddenly felt his sister's thoughts become open.

_Ok . . . a little strange, but I'll go with it-_

His eyes widened in shock and he immediately shut them out of his mind. It was a reflex action he had become more and more apt at using ever since Raven had forbidden him from reading her mind, so now he could use it at will against anyone. He had been using it just now, but somehow, when Evelyn had tried to read Raven's thoughts, the barrier had been broken. A similar thing had happened earlier when he had informed Erik of her waking, he had sent the message only to Erik, no other should have been able to hear it; but Evelyn did. Taking a mental note to look into this connection further, Charles brought his thoughts back to the present.

He saw Evelyn's eyes glance towards him, but then her attention was back on Raven and her smile widened on having read what Raven had thought of.

Charles watched with avid fascination as Evelyn raised the pipe into a vertical position between her hands and then slowly brought her right hand down over its top. But as her palm descended, the pipe began to melt like an extremely fast burning candle until the now molten metal was encased in both of her hands. A frown appeared on her face as she concentrated, but a second later it disappeared and was replaced by a timid smile as she opened her hands slowly to reveal a perfectly beautiful metal sculpture of an apple.

Beaming, Charles looked to Raven whose mouth was open in astonishment. Feeling her brother's eyes on her she turned to face him.

With a chuckle, Charles lent closer to Raven and indicated back to Evelyn, "Wait, there's more." He murmured, smiling.

_More? _Raven mouthed as she looked back to the young metal bender with wonder.

Charles knew that Evelyn felt a little uncomfortable in the limelight. It wasn't his ability which told him this but the deadly look she was giving him, and he smiled challengingly back; impervious to her scornful look. But she complied with him nonetheless.

She walked to the side of the boat, hovering the metal rose higher and higher above her palm as she did so, until it was suspended high above them over the calm water in the hazy morning sky and well over the side of the ship. Then in a well practiced move she sent a bolt of blue electricity in the shining apple's direction and with a deep resounding crack, which made Raven jump, the helpless metal fruit was splintered into oblivion.


End file.
